HC02A-Wind and the Willow
by VStarTraveler
Summary: Three months after the events of "The Ride," housekeeper Violeta takes a leave to visit her sister, setting off a chain of events that could change lives on the High Chaparral. Complete.
1. Chapter 1: Victoria

**HC02A: Wind and the Willow**

by VStarTraveler

 ** _Summary:_** _Three months after the events of "The Ride," housekeeper Violeta takes a leave to visit her sister, setting off a chain of events that could change lives on the High Chaparral._

 ** _Author's Notes:_** _This story is takes place about three months after the end of "The Ride." If you're a High Chaparral fan and haven't read it (and its predecessor, "The Fight") yet, you might want to read that (or those) first since the major event of that story is reflected here. Unlike the earlier stories, this story will not be rigid drabbles but will use relatively short chapters of variable length, with each chapter told from the perspective of the title character. A situation may be seen much differently from different perspectives and the truth may not always be what one thinks. Due to the author's real life issues, this story will probably be told at a leisurely pace, so you may wish to follow the story to receive word of updates._

 ** _Disclaimer:_** _This story is a work of fiction, written entirely for fun and not for profit. This interpretation of The High Chaparral is entirely my own, and The High Chaparral and all of its various components remain the property of their respective owners._

* * *

 **Chapter 1: Victoria**

Violeta had gone to see her sister for a month, taking Isabella, her sister's daughter, with her.

Victoria was sure she could manage when her housekeeper had approached her about the trip and she'd gladly agreed. Now, on the second day of Violeta's sabbatical, she wasn't so sure. One three month old was nursing happily and the other was starting to stir. Again.

Victoria fought off a yawn as little Bobby's "hic, hic" sound quickly turned into a wanting cry.

Betsy's little hands turned to plump fists that pummeled her mother's breast softly at the disturbance.

"Sorry, it's your brother's turn again," she said as she burped the girl and laid her back in the basinet next to her. "We'll change everyone shortly."

Bobby was quite hungry, too, but Betsy wasn't happy and began to cry. Pulling Bobby away, she shifted him to her shoulder and reached into their little bed for his sister. Scooping carefully from her seated position, she was able to bring the tiny girl to her other shoulder.

Victoria knew that Betsy would not be tiny for long. As quickly as the kids were growing, she also knew that she would not be able to pick them both up like this at one time for much longer. Perhaps John would; it was so sweet seeing him be so careful and loving with the little ones.

The thought almost brought tears to her eyes but there was no time for that. Two babies were crying instead.

Victoria sighed as she patted a small child on each shoulder. She was so very thankful for her little ones; still, it was going to be a very long month.

~HC~


	2. Chapter 2: Wind

**Chapter 2: Wind**

Señora Violeta had left the ranch and she'd taken the young lady, Easabella, with her.

He hadn't known that the woman was leaving. That in itself wasn't an issue to him since he really had no regular interaction with her other than occasionally carrying meals to or from the bunkhouse or collecting clothes on wash day. The lady was a good cook and seemed to be rather indispensable to Mrs. Cannon, but he was sure Mr. Cannon's wife had taken any needed precautions to cover for her during the señora's absence. Therefore, Wind didn't have an opinion one way or the other on Señora Violeta's departure.

He'd also had no idea that Easabella was leaving; after all, they'd never actually spoken other than in the barest and briefest necessity so it really wasn't like she would bother to inform him. True, she always met him with a smile—or perhaps it was a smirk?—as she looked at him under generally downcast eyebrows, but he wasn't sure she really knew he existed other than in passing.

What sat front and center on his mind was that he wasn't there when she'd left. That meant he'd lost the opportunity to try to finally say the words he'd been considering for the past couple of months as their paths crossed on those seemingly rare occasions.

Wind was half Pawnee, but he was also half white. His upbringing had been partly in both, so the two worlds were ever in conflict in his mind. Unlike some in similar situations, this inner strife was not clear cut to him since he felt it his duty to consider both sides and choose the best course, and not just the best course for one side or the other. He pictured his situation somewhat like paint, where a bit of a darker color is poured into a pot of lighter color and then gently stirred. In Wind's case, he felt the stirrer only made one slow, deliberate circle around the pot, so the two colors were intricately swirled together and inseparable but never fully mixed to form the new color. As such, he felt free to pick and choose from the best of both worlds, leaving him to hope for the best result for everyone.

Unfortunately, the resulting complex spiral sometimes had the effect of keeping the right path hidden from his view, so the words Jama had heard quietly practiced a number of times in a number of forms in recent weeks kept changing at least a little with each attempt. Furthermore, he knew that they would likely continue to change over time until Señora Violeta and Senorita Easabella returned and he finally had the opportunity to attempt to convey them since he was still somewhat confused and since his horse, ever the dutiful listener, offered him no significant insights in return.

Thus, he reached his real concern: he had no idea how long they would be gone, or even if they were coming back at all.

~HC~

 _ **Author's Note:** Thanks to Cathy, wotwasithinkin, and Junebug for the nice comments to kick off this story. Thanks, too, to those who've favorited or followed the story._


	3. Chapter 3: Sam

**Chapter 3: Sam**

Something was up with that boy.

Every since he'd returned from his latest rotation on the range two nights before, Wind had been sullen. Not that he was usually the most chipper of hands in the first place, but this was even worse than usual. Something was wrong and Sam had to get to the bottom of it before it festered and started causing trouble in the bunkhouse.

Wind was actually pretty good at causing problems; ever since he'd come to the ranch, he'd had those occasions where he frustrated Sam to no end and exasperated Mr. Cannon to high heaven. Still, once Mr. Cannon had accepted him despite what some called the problems of his "background," that boy had been a contributor in a good way. Sam had also refused to let Wind's background stand in his way, and the bunkhouse boys had, over time, grown to accept and respect him, too.

Sam really wanted the young man to succeed, and he sure didn't want this latest batch of gloomy solitude to undo the progress that had been made.

The young man was often silent, keeping his own counsel, even when the other hands were willing to argue and contribute far more than their own two cents worth. Wind was also very good at keeping his own issues to himself and working his way through or around them. Due to his silence, it was often difficult to tell which.

However, there were those occasional times when Wind would follow his namesake and whip himself up in something of a verbal frenzy. When that happened, the kid could tell people what they didn't want to hear even when they very much needed to hear it. Of course, sometimes he would tell them how things probably should be from his own unique perspective even when, like the other hands, he probably should have kept his mouth shut.

Sam smiled about that, having been on the receiving end of a few of both of those instances. In reality, Wind usually had a pretty good point, even when it wasn't exactly the one he'd originally been trying to make. Sam chuckled at the thought.

Turning a corner, he saw his younger brother cinching the saddle on his horse.

"Hey, Joe, have you seen Wind?"

"Hey, Sam. Yeah, he was in the stable grooming his horse's hooves a few minutes ago."

"Thanks, little brother. Catch you at suppertime?"

"Yeah, I'll be back. See ya' then."

Sam headed into the stable.

~HC~

 ** _Author's Note:_** _Thanks to Cathy, Junebug, and wotwasithinkin for the nice recent comments. I'm glad some readers are enjoying the perspective-based chapters, and hope that I can keep them interesting as the story continues to develop._


	4. Chapter 4: John

**Chapter 4: John**

The only real sound was that of the squeaking of rockers against the hardwood floor.

It was late in the evening and John was sitting in his wife's rocking chair while she was downstairs for a little while. Victoria really needed the break and it gave John a rare, quiet moment to think. As he closed his eyes, those thoughts turned to his older son.

Billy Blue's welfare had always been one of John's major concerns. The young man had a tendency to run hot and cold and John knew that he hadn't always been the most understanding father. Blue had left or almost left home several times in his youth, leading them to work through some of their issues before he finally decided to go back East to pursue his career in art.

During Blue's recent visit when the twins were born, they'd had a good father-son talk, that, on reflection, John figured they should have had much more often in the years before Blue's final departure.

"Pa, I've met someone in Chicago." His voice had trailed off.

John waited for him to continue but finally spoke up when the silence lingered. "Well? Is it serious?"

Blue had nodded slowly. "Yeah, I think so, Pa, and I think she thinks so, too."

Instead of the lecture or the warnings or any of the other things that John could have said, he'd simply replied, "Good. I'm very happy for you, son," purposely avoiding the word "boy" that too often crept into the discussion and perturbed Blue so much. "What's she like?"

Showing that respect for Blue's decision had set the tone for a great visit, and father and son were both sad when the time came for Blue to return to his new home.

Sam's report on his discussion with Wind earlier that day had thrown John's thought patterns back a few years to those days when he had always worried about and almost constantly fussed at Blue. However, now, instead of his son, his concern focused on his youngest ranch hand, the half-white, half-Pawnee boy. _Young man_ , thought John, correcting himself as he had done with Blue. _And as such, I have to be sure to show the respect for Wind's desires and concerns...and possibly his decisions...just like with Blue._

The precious silence he had been enjoying was broken as the little bundle on his shoulder stirred for a moment, shifted, and then seemed to relax once more against him. Realizing how quickly the child was growing, John whispered in his gravelly voice, "And yes, little Bobby Cannon, I'll have to remember that someday with you, too."

The little boy was asleep again, but not so his twin sister. The wail started suddenly just after he'd said the last word. "Ah, I guess you, too, eh, Betsy?"

He patted her back but she was continuing to fret, so he moved into position and scooped her up into his open arm. Sliding back carefully, he soon had a baby on both shoulders similar to the way he sometimes saw Victoria do it.

"Not bad for an old pa," he whispered softly to himself as Betsy's cry subsided. "Not too bad."

Smiling at the thought, he closed his eyes to savor the moment as he gently rocked his little children.

~HC~

 ** _Author's Note:_** **** _Thank you to wotwasithinkin and Cathy for their recent reviews. I always enjoy getting reviews, comments, favorites, and follows, so thank you! Your feedback and your input are always appreciated._

 _In this case, Cathy's request actually coincided pretty closely with what I'd already written, but her comment prompted me to tweak this chapter slightly by adding the four short paragraphs at the very end to include Betsy in the mix. Hope you enjoy!_


	5. Chapter 5: Victoria

**Chapter 5: Victoria**

Both babies had eaten, been burped and changed, and had spent some play time with Mamá. Now they were sleeping in the bassinet in the kitchen. Settling on a chair and resting her elbows on the table, Victoria felt as if she needed to join them for just a brief moment. Her forehead sank down on interlaced fingers for a moment as she thought of the remaining things to be done that afternoon.

She awoke with a start as her fingers started to slip and her head moved down toward the table. Panicking, she quickly glanced around the room to see that her children were still exactly where they'd been before, still sound asleep. Unfortunately, she didn't know how long she'd dozed or how much longer they would either.

Therefore, she had to take advantage of her free time and get things started for the evening meal. Glancing at the rotation schedule, she saw that the herd was being shifted close to home to graze so she would be preparing dinner for about 20 hungry men tonight and then about 30 tomorrow night. Either way, that took time and a lot of food.

With the need to protect the herd from rustlers, wild animals, and the occasional Indian incursion, John and Sam made it a practice to keep about a third of the men with the herd at all times. At Sam's recommendation, hiring Cookie had been one of the smartest moves to which John had agreed to improve the ranch's operation. While the hands minding the herd rotated every few days, Cookie was there on the range all of the time until the herd was moved to the now fenced home pastures. Then, he'd get his time off until it was time to move further away from home in search of fresh pastureland. Of course, while the herd was close to home and Cookie was gone, Violeta and Victoria had to cook for the field hands, too.

Unless Violeta wasn't there.

Victoria sighed; all of the work would now fall to her.

She sometimes envied Cookie with the hands out on the range. He usually had to cook for the 10 or so men assigned to protect the herd, but his meals consisted largely of canned beans, bacon or ham, stacks of warmed tortillas that Victoria and Violeta made in the kitchen, and some canned fruit. When assigned to watch the herd, the men understood that the fare from the chuck-wagon wouldn't be all that great or all that varied.

When back on home duty, however, they'd come to expect something more.

Being alone with the children, Victoria hoped she could deliver as she cut the lard into the flour mixture. Adding water slowly, she kneaded the dough. When it was the right consistency, she started pinching off bits and then rolling them into a circle before pressing them slightly flat. Moments later she was rolling the first one with the rolling pin and soon had four tortillas cooking on the big griddle.

A few minutes later, the completed stack was slowly starting to grow as she placed four more flat tortillas on the griddle. She was about to flip them when a little cry pierced the air.

She grabbed a towel and tried to wipe the light dusting of flour from her hands and face. She picked a crying Bobby up and placed him on her shoulder. "What's wrong with Mamá's little boy? Hmm? It's okay, Bobby." She used her knees to bounce up and down as she patted his back. "It's okay, my big boy."

Unfortunately, Betsy had been disturbed by her brother so her cry soon joined his, leaving Victoria trying to comfort them both.

A burning smell was the first indication that something actually wasn't okay. The tortillas on the griddle were turning black and smoking! She grabbed the spatula and scooped one and then a second up and flipped them into the pail of water. The other two joined them a moment later.

The steam that briefly resulted made the burned odor even worse, filling the kitchen and causing the children to cry even more in response to the smell.

It was beginning to look like this evening's dinner was going to be late for the family and the hands as well as for her little ones. Even if it was just temporary until Violeta returned, Victoria knew that she had to get some help.

~HC~

 _ **Author's Note:**_ _Thanks so much to Junebug, Cathy, and Jane for the nice comments on Chapter 4! Your lovely comments and questions always make my day!_

 _With the presence of unfriendly Indians, rustlers, and wild animals, I used personal knowledge_ _from my childhood_ _of the need to rotate pasture lands frequently to work out the scheme noted above to constantly monitor and protect the herd as well as providing adequate forage. The risk of rustlers in this area during this period was very real and contributed to the infamous events in Tombstone (east of the High Chaparral ranch) about three years after this story takes place._

 _In response to Cathy's question on diapers, this was addressed in a period-costume estate tour I took some years ago and seems to be confirmed by some online research following the question. The very short version is that children were dressed in cloth diapers and possibly multiple layers for absorption purposes to avoid immediate leaks. Potty training generally began much earlier than today, too. Girls and boys generally wore gowns of various types and lengths (by age) to make hygiene care easier on the adult caregivers until the children were fully trained and old enough to assume some responsibility for their own care. Girls then switched to real dresses and boys were breeched, given shorts or various types of pants. This was usually by age 5 or so, but Wikipedia, which has a pretty good article on "Breeching (boys)," says that it could happen sometimes between ages 2 and 8._

 _All that said, I never dreamed when I started this story that I'd eventually be trying to answer a question on diapers on the internet. Ha ha_

 _Finally, there are some great videos on making tortillas on YouTube. Personally, I usually just buy them at the store, but I may try making some in the near future for the freshness and for the experience._

 _As always, please leave a note to let me know your thoughts on the chapter or the story so far. Thanks!_


	6. Chapter 6: Buck

**Chapter 6: Buck**

It was the next afternoon and Buck was on a mission in Tucson.

After dropping off the supply list at the general store, his first task had gone really well. He'd hired two new hands at the saloon and was reasonably confident that they'd show up the next morning for the ride back to High Chaparral. Then had come the hard part.

Everywhere he'd looked he'd walked away empty-handed; he was having no luck at all finding a new cook. Every lady in town seemed to either be married or employed and not interested in changing employers. He had no luck with the few men who seemed like possibilities either.

His favorite candidate had been Millie at the cafe, but she'd turned him down flat since the job was only for a month. After running out of options, he was heading back that way to see if she'd be more interested in the job if he sweetened the pot rather substantially.

He was crossing the dusty street and was about to enter the cafe when he heard shouting.

Looking around, he wasn't sure of its source until he saw a slight Chinese man with a long dark braid down his back come running out of an alley one building down from the cafe. The man turned sharply to start running down the street toward the cafe but lost his footing in the dust and fell, sprawling.

Even before he could regain his feet, two men carrying wooden axe handles came running out of the same alley. "We're going to get you, Chinaman!"

The first, a large, dark-headed man, swung his axe handle at the thin man, who rolled to the side as the end of the handle bit into the dusty street next to him. The second man, shorter, stouter, and balding was getting ready to swing, too, but the first man had stepped in his way while bringing his handle around for another blow.

Buck knew something had to be done since none of the other men watching from down the street were going to do anything to stop the men from hurting or perhaps even killing the man. Therefore, his Colt was out in a flash and he fired a single round next to the big man's feet just as he was starting his swing. Surprised and thrown off balance, the man jumped sideways in surprise as the handle flew out of his hands. He spun around toward Buck with an angry sneer.

"Now just hold on and, you, drop that other axe handle!" said Buck as he stepped up between the Chinese man and the two who'd been pursuing him.

Buck waved his pistol and the stout man tossed his axe handle away, too. "That's good, real good. Now, let's be civilized like and tell me what'sa happening here?"

The bigger man angrily replied, "This here Chinaman done rubbed holes in our long johns while doin' the warsh! We paid good money fer our warsh ta' be done right, and he ruint 'em! Now he's either gonna' pay fer 'em or we gonna take it outa his hide."

The Chinese man was shaking his head furiously. "No! No ruin! T-readbare! And you no pay!"

"Well, not after you ruint 'em, we ain't payin', that's fer sure!" said the second man.

"So, let me get this straight," said Buck. "Your under pants was pretty much wore out and then you didn't pay this gent for his work? Was them under pants the only thing he washed?"

"No! You don't think we're just havin' him do one thing for those two bits a piece, do ya?"

"So he did all yer wash and you didn't pay him and now you want ta' beat him up for ruinin' yer wore out under pants. That pretty much it?"

"Well, yeah," replied the second man, looking a bit confused.

The big man rolled his eyes at his buddy for ruining his scheme, particularly since a sheriff's deputy had approached and was watching how Buck handled the situation.

Buck nodded and said, "Now I'm gonna put this pistol back in its holster and this is what I propose we're gonna do. You two are gonna pay this Chinaman two bits apiece for his washin'. He's gonna give you a refund of, oh, say, five cents each for any damage he might'uv caused to them under pants. Then, we're all gonna go our separate ways and that's gonna' be the end of it. Otherwise, the doctor's bill is gonna be a good bit more than that for somebody. Got it?"

The men nodded slowly and the Chinese man, who understood more English than he spoke, finally nodded, too. The money changed hands and the two men slunk off.

Moments later, the sheriff's deputy said, "Nicely done, Buck. Let me buy you a drink."

"Wye, thank you, Rick! Much obliged, amigo."

The two men started down the street but the Chinese man suddenly ran around Buck, stopped, and bowed.

Buck had no idea what was going on, so Deputy Rick said, "We've had several Chinese move here recently. They don't speak much English, but they work mighty hard, seem to be very loyal, and they take debts seriously. I think he figures he owes you."

"Nah, you don't owe me anything, amigo," replied Buck. "Now, go on," he added with a wave, sending the man on his way.

Buck watched as the man bowed and then turned, his head down as he moved away. He was walking away when Buck suddenly had an idea.

"Hey, wait, amigo! I know you can wash, but can you cook?"

~HC~

 _ **Author's Note:** Thanks to Cathy for the lovely comments on Chapter 5. I really appreciate the input._

 _For some period, Chinese workers represented the majority of the workforce on the construction of the Central Pacific Railroad, with their numbers reportedly reaching 11,000 men in 1867. Eight thousand were assigned to working on the tunnels in California, and another 3,000 worked on laying tracks. After the Central Pacific and Union Pacific met at Promontory Summit, Utah Territory, on May 10, 1869, many of the Chinese workers found themselves out of work, so those who did not return home soon scattered to other railroad projects around the country, with as many as 6,000 reportedly working on the Texas Pacific Railroad, 600 to 700 on the Alabama Chattanooga Railroad, and about 8,300 (or more?) working on several railroad and telegraph projects in Oregon._

 _The Chinese and other workers generally seemed to get along well during the initial railroad construction. However, once they started competing for jobs and business in other areas, many people began to look down on the Chinese immigrants such that the angry attitude of the belligerents in this chapter and the use of pejorative terms became, unfortunately, quite common. While they often toughed it out despite the odds against them, their exclusion often led them to congregate in their own communities in San Francisco and a number of other cities around the U.S._


	7. Chapter 7: Mano

**Chapter 7: Mano**

 _The next evening:_

Grace had been said and dinner had just been served. Now Mano was busy staring at the plate in front of him.

"Victoria, dinner looks quite, ahem, interesting," he said as the family sat around the dinner table. The "ay yi yi," under his breath wasn't quite low enough for the others to avoid hearing it.

Victoria, having long dealt with her brother, nodded and ignored his little aside. Smiling politely, she replied, "Yes, Chun Li wished to share a traditional meal from his homeland with us tonight."

As she finished speaking, Mano caught John give her a smile across the table. Their eyes met briefly, lovingly, before John took his first bite and started to chew.

Mano rolled his eyes. He was quite happy for his sister that she'd found true love, but sometimes it was a bit too much to take.

He refocused his attention on the food on his plate. Sadly, it was still what he considered to be an unappetizing-looking mess, so he looked over at Bobby and Betsy reclining in their little seats next to Victoria. Bobby was pulling on his big toe, while Betsy was sucking happily on her thumb.

 _You two don't know how lucky you are, at least for tonight,_ he thought.

Meanwhile, Buck was using his fork to pick at the rice topped with indistinguishable blobs set in a dark brown sauce. He was stirring it around, mixing the brown goop into the rice as Mano started watching him.

Buck used his fork to pick up a bit of the mixture. He looked at it with an almost pained expression that seemed to match what Mano was already feeling before letting it slide back off. Another bit went on and then was dumped off again.

Buck's fork never approached his mouth.

Mano glanced back at John. His eyes were now focused on his plate as he used his fork to take another bite. Mano decided that his brother-in-law wasn't frowning any more than he usually did, but he wasn't exactly smiling as if he loved the food either. Mano's suspicion was that John was either trying to please Victoria, stay out of the discussion, serve as a good example, or was really, really hungry. Or, perhaps this was similar to one of the "interesting meals" John had reported eating on their trip to San Francisco a couple of years before?

Whatever it was, Mano wasn't quite buying it.

"Tell me, dear sister, can our new cook prepare traditional meals from this side of the world, too?" Mano's head cocked to the side and his eyes widened slightly to accent the question.

Victoria put her fork down as she stared back at her brother. "Yes, Manolito, Chun Li told me that he worked on the Central Pacific Railroad in the mountains of California and across the Utah territory to the end of the line. He cooked for his work crew."

Mano nodded slowly. "But did he cook Chinese food or our food when he was doing it?"

Victoria gave him a little scowl that Mano took as her way of saying "Enough!" He sighed as he looked back down at his plate, silently voicing another expletive so Victoria couldn't hear it.

His fork made a few slow circles in the mix before he looked back up to see Buck watching intently as John took yet another bite. He was quite surprised a moment later when Buck's courage, his fork, and his hunger finally aligned, allowing him to take his first little bite.

Mano continued watching with interest as Buck chewed that tiny bite ever-so-slowly, gingerly, over and over, before finally swallowing. Buck's facial expression showed that he was clearly considering the result before he finally looked up at his best friend.

"Say, Mano, this stuff ain't half bad!"

~HC~

 _ **Author's Note:** Many thanks to everyone for reading this story and to wotwasithinkin for the nice review of Chapter 6. As always, your reviews and comments are welcomed!  
_


	8. Chapter 8: Sam

**Chapter 8: Sam**

 _A little later that same evening:_

All was not well in the bunkhouse.

There usually wasn't much food left after dinner in the bunkhouse, particularly when the whole crew was present. The tin plates were usually wiped clean with the last bits of bread or tortilla and the serving pots usually weren't a problem either. Somebody was almost always willing to finish whatever was left.

Sam stood looking at the pots with the evening's meal. The big rice pot was completely empty; he didn't see a single grain of rice left in it.

The problem was the second pot.

That pot was still half filled with the brown soupy mix, and a number of the deep metal plates still had some of it in them. Several of the men were currently standing in line to scrape their leavings into a bucket.

Sam had tried Chinese food in a small restaurant in Denver a few years before. It was actually quite good. In comparison, but this left a lot to be desired. Still, he'd eaten a lot worse out of various chuck wagons over the years and at some of the other little cafes in various little towns in his travels through the southwest. In fact, he suspected that if the men had been out on the range, most of them wouldn't have said a word or at least wouldn't have given Cookie too much hell about it.

Cookie wasn't here tonight, though. With the herd and the crew back home, he'd taken off with a couple of the boys for Tucson for a few days of leave.

Unfortunately, with Cookie out of the picture, there was a higher expectation from all of the men based on Mrs. Cannon and Señora Violeta's past record. Dinner "at home" was usually a cut of steak or slices of roast with some potatoes or vegetables or rice, or sometimes a beef stew, a Mexican-style dish, or, at least, something good.

Whatever, it surely wasn't the brown soupy stuff that some of the men had compared, quite unfairly but also quite unfavorably, to cattle droppings or worse. After the initial unfavorable comments by some of the first through the serving line, Sam was pretty sure that a number of the later hands hadn't even bothered to try the dish.

"Sam, you know I'll eat just about anything, but this was way over the line," complained Tommy. "What in tarnation was Buck thinking hiring that cook? Was he trying to get us all to quit? If we keep getting this stuff, we'll all wither up and blow away, if we don't starve to death first."

He knew that Tommy was half teasing, but there was an undercurrent of truth to his complaint. Outfits with a reputation for bad food typically had a much higher turnover rate for personnel than was usual at the High Chaparral. If they had too many more meals similar to tonight's, some of the guys might start quitting rather than just grumbling.

At about 9 o'clock, Reno and Pedro left to go ride herd. Even though the herd was in one of the fenced pastures not too far from the house, it was important that someone always be on watch to avoid rustling or worse.

About an hour later, Joe and Wind arrived after being relieved from their watch. After washing up, they both retrieved their dinner plates, which had been filled, covered, and set over on the side of the big wood stove.

With the bunkhouse starting to wind down for the evening and many of the men heading off to sleep, both men dug in and ate their fill.

After washing his dishes, Joe went outside to find Sam looking up at the sky.

"Hey, big brother. What was that food tonight? I didn't, uh, recognize it."

Sam laughed. "Neither did anyone else. I'll talk to Mrs. Cannon about it in the morning."

"There were other complaints?"

"Yeah." Since Joe was his backup as well as his brother, Sam gave him a quick rundown on the evening's events and all of the grumbling that resulted before Joe headed in to bed.

Sam was about to head that way, too, when Wind came out the door and put his arms on the fence next to Sam, looking up at the sky similar to the foreman.

"The meal tonight—it wasn't from Mrs. Cannon?" he asked.

Sam shook his head. "No, it was from the new cook."

Wind's eyes widened. "There's a new cook?"

"Yeah, Buck hired him just yesterday and today was his first day on the job."

"I see." The young man looked down at his feet before turning away and going back inside.

Sam shook his head slowly, wondering if Wind had disliked the food, too. He really wasn't sure, but either way, he sometimes wondered about that young man.

~HC~

 ** _Author's Note:_** _Thank you to Cathy, wotwasithinkin, and junebug for the recent reviews and comments. Your input is appreciated!_

 _Thanks, too, for the comments on Mano with respect to the food. I believe that he, like Victoria, had previously traveled extensively and in the style befitting a Montoya so he would have been exposed to different locations and cusines. It was mentioned that Manolito, Anthony "Tony" Grey, and "Vickie" had done a capitals of Europe tour (including specifically Paris and Rome) two years earlier in 1:03, "The Ghost of Chaparral," and Mano also traveled to Mexico City in "The New Lion of Sonora." Therefore, my intent was that when Mano had reservations about the meal, it would show that it really didn't look very appetizing as I hope I clarified in this installment.  
_

 _Next week: Just what does having a new cook really mean?_


	9. Chapter 9: Wind

**Chapter 9: Wind**

Wind couldn't sleep.

As he lay in his bunk, too many thoughts clouded his mind but they were all centered on a certain young woman with long, shiny dark hair and those deep green eyes that seemed to capture his own each time he looked her way.

Just as quickly, she would always look down, demurely, when she caught his eye, but there was often a smile, or at least a hint of one, on her face. Her smooth tan skin would crinkle slightly at the corners of her mouth while she sometimes ever-so-briefly flashed her beautiful white teeth at him in that all-too-short moment before casting her eyes downward. He wasn't sure if that little display was from embarrassment from receiving his glance, embarrassment for him that he cast it, or, he hoped, a slight hint of happiness about his possible interest.

Whichever, that was enough to warm his heart and leave him hoping that someday, somehow, he would finally get his chance to talk to her. At long last, he would get to see if there could possibly be something more between them than that occasional look, whatever its meaning.

She was tall for a girl, approximately his height, but thin and lithe. She seemed so graceful in her movements, as if dancing over the ground when she walked. Her demeanor seemed perfect, too, though he'd heard sounds of laughter in the kitchen on occasion, leading him to think that she must have a playful side, too. Unfortunately, he really didn't know. In fact, it always came back to the point that he really knew almost nothing about her.

Oh, there were so many things he didn't know about her, but her voice made his heart almost melt each time he heard it, as rare as that had been. He hoped that someday they would be able to stand next to each other and have a real conversation rather than him relaying a brief message about a basic need for the bunkhouse or chuck wagon or whatever and her responding in kind. He hoped that someday he would be able to discover if there could actually be something more between them than his current fascination—or was it infatuation?—with her.

Now, however, with Mrs. Cannon having hired a new cook, his worst fear was realized. That hoped-for conversation would never happen. His interest would never be satisfied; he would never know if there could be something there.

It wasn't Mrs. Cannon's fault, or really, Mr. Cannon's either. Mr. Cannon was always fair, but he was also very frugal with his money, always being careful to make it go as far as possible so he could continue to make High Chaparral ranch better. He would not be one to hire extra employees if they weren't required, so since Mrs. Cannon had hired the cook, the cook must have been needed.

If that was the case, Wind realized that Señora Violeta must not be returning, that she must be gone for good. Since she had taken Señorita Easabella with her, the young lady would be gone for good, too.

As he lay on the bunk looking up at the ceiling shrouded in darkness, his heart ached at the thought of never seeing her again, of never saying the words he'd practiced, of never telling her the feelings he hoped he could someday confirm and eventually express to her. Those words, so potentially important, would end up forever unsaid and would eventually be forgotten; however, wherever she was gone, he knew in his heart that her memory would be with him forever.

Perhaps he was tired as he struggled with these thoughts. Perhaps it was the sounds of breathing or outright snores around him continuing unabated or perhaps it was his own lack experience dealing with the fairer sex. More likely it was those very thoughts crowding his mind, confusing him as he lay there in that bunk, which kept him from thinking with the clarity he usually prided himself on having, but sometime in the night he finally formulated the solution that had been eluding him.

Señora Violeta was gone and would not be returning. Señorita Easabella had gone with her and therefore, would not be returning either. Both women had gone somewhere, and where they could go, Wind realized, he could follow.

Moments later, he, too, was asleep.

~HC~

 ** _Author's Note:_** _Thank you to wotwasithinkin and Cathy for the nice comments on Chapter 8. I really appreciate everyone who reads my stories and especially those who take a moment to leave comments. If you're enjoying the story, please take a moment to leave even a brief comment below to let me know._

 _Thanks,_

 _VST_


	10. Chapter 10: John

**Chapter 10: John**

 _The next evening..._

"Sam, thank you for coming to me with this. I'll speak with Victoria tonight and we'll get it fixed."

"Thank you, Mr. Cannon. Have a good night."

"You, too, Sam."

John refocused on the ledger after Sam left his office. His eye scanned down the column and found all in order. He closed the book and returned it to the safe.

Dealing with Sam's issue wasn't as easy. When he entered the bedroom a short time later, he said, "Victoria, we have a problem."

Victoria sat in the rocker holding Betsy. She held out her hand toward Bobby as she asked, "John, what is it?"

John scooped up his younger son and sat down in the other chair. Smiling at Bobby and giving him a finger to grasp, he explained, "Two hands tried to quit after dinner tonight. They said dinner wasn't up to snuff, again, but Sam convinced them to give us until tomorrow night. Several others weren't much happier with tonight's meal than with Chun Li's Chinese surprise from last night. To top it all off, Wind left the ranch today."

"John, I will take care of the meal situation tomorrow and speak with Li, but why did Wind go? Do you know where he is going?" She looked very concerned.

"Good. That will help. As for Wind, I don't have a clue and Sam didn't either. He spoke with him a few days ago when Wind seemed distracted by something, but Sam said getting responses out of him can be as hard as pulling nails with your teeth. He's very private when it comes to personal issues, so Sam gave him an assignment to get him away from the bunkhouse for a while since that sometimes helps get his mind off of his problems. It didn't seem to work this time. He got back last night and approached Sam first thing this morning."

"Oh, I wish we knew what it was about so we could help."

John shook his head. "Me, too, but we just don't know. Sam said that Wind told him this morning that he had some personal business to take care of, but he wouldn't give any details, again. Joe's probably closer to Wind than anyone so he spoke with him, too, before he left, but he couldn't get anything more out of him either."

"Oh, John, that worries me," she said, her brow furrowing slightly. "No one has come back from Tucson recently to bring messages or mail. Could he have run into someone on the ranch, or maybe an Indian he knows? Could that be why he would he say it is 'personal business'?"

Another head shake and a slight shrug followed as John replied, "I have no idea. I do see though that this little fellow is out."

Victoria smiled, "Betsy, too. Let's put them in their crib and then we can go to bed."

"Sounds good," said John as he gently put Bobby down. "I'm sure you've had a long day and need your sleep."

Victoria was biting her lower lip fighting a smile as she put Betsy down next to her brother. Covering her, she turned to John and ran a single finger down his forearm as she said, "It _has_ been a long day, my husband, and I _am_ tired, but _I_ wasn't the one who said _anything_ about sleep."

Her gentle touch, the inflections in her voice, and a subtle tilt of her head brought a smile to John's face as he took his wife in his arms.

~HC~

 ** _Author's Note:_** _Thanks for reading, as always, and thank you to wotwasithinkin and Cathy for the nice comments on Chapter 9. They're exactly right that Wind could do much to ease his troubled mind if he would only open up a bit more with his friends, but then I have to ask myself, would that be in character? Perhaps, since some time has passed, but again, if he did, where would the story go? That said, Wind has a plan; as to whether it is a good one, time will tell._

 _Also, since Victoria got to be a bit playful in this episode, it's only right to wish her on-screen portrayer, Ms. Linda Cristal, a slightly belated happy birthday on celebrating her 83rd birthday on February 23rd. "Happy Birthday, Ms. Cristal!"_

 _Finally, for those who enjoy westerns other than The High Chaparral, I recently published the first chapter of my new story in the Lone Ranger (TV) fandom with "LR01: The Summer of '78." The Lone Ranger was a_ _nother of my favorite TV westerns from childhood, but, sadly, the stories and cinematography from it don't hold up nearly as well today. However, I still enjoy watching it and love the basic story of the The Lone Ranger and Tonto (and hated the treatment it received in the Hammer & Depp adaptation even while enjoying parts of the movie), so I'll be exploring that fandom from what I hope will be a more adult perspective. Thanks to wotwasithinkin for discovering it and commenting already; I hope more of you will give it a try and let me know your thoughts on it._


	11. Chapter 11: Victoria

**Chapter 11: Victoria**

On the first really cool, crisp morning of the fall, Victoria Cannon awoke snuggled up next to her husband, his arm draped comfortingly around her. Feeling his warmth, his strength, and the secure sense of happiness that he provided her, she wrapped her arms around his and briefly clutched it to her breast before carefully disentangling herself and getting out of bed. Being careful to avoid tripping over their clothing scattered on the floor from the night before, she pushed them to the side with her toes and slipped into her nightgown, padding quietly to avoid awaking John or the children.

 _After last night, John deserves his sleep._ She grinned at the thought. Of course, with the feeding sometime in the middle of the night, she knew she could use some more herself.

That was not to be, however, since the children would be up all too soon. While she loved having her babies close by, she almost looked forward to the time in the not-too-distant future when they would move into their own nursery, Blue's old bedroom. Violeta had told her that babies usually started sleeping through the night at between 3 and 6 months of age.

 _Oh, Violeta! When will you be back home?_

A short time later, she was dressed and downstairs in the kitchen to find Chun Li already getting things out to start the morning meal.

"Good morning, Chun Li. We have to make some changes in the way we prepare our meals. I want you to watch closely so you learn them, okay?"

The little Chinese man looked down at the ground as he nodded. "Men not like Chun Li cook?"

Victoria took his hand. "Cooking, Chun Li. It's not that they don't like your cooking, it's that they're not used to it. I'm going to show you how to do some new things and some other things that they expect. Pretty soon, they'll like your cooking much better."

Things seemed to be going well and Chun Li was doing his best to follow her instructions, so around 5:30 AM on the clock in the kitchen, Victoria went back upstairs to wake John and check on the children.

At 5:40 AM, Victoria came back down the stairs to the smell of burning biscuits.

~HC~

With the babies finally asleep, Victoria was brushing her hair late that evening when John entered the bedroom. He and Buck had missed dinner.

"John, where were you? You had a very long day," she said as she entered his embrace. Wrapped in his arms, she didn't see his wince.

"Yes, it was that, but it's better now that I'm here with you. We had fence issues earlier."

Their kiss extended to two, then three, before they separated. She noted his pained expression.

"What is wrong, John? Did some of the hands quit tonight?"

"Oh, no, compliments to the cook on dinner. Sam said it went over well, and Chun Li gave Buck and me our plates downstairs. I take it that you were responsible for the cooking and the plate service?"

"Yes, though Chun Li was a big help. It seems the 'American food' he cooked on the railroad consisted of rice, beans, bacon, and little else. He has _a lot_ to learn."

"I see. That sounds like a couple of our newer hands. They'd never strung barbed wire before, so they didn't understand to stretch it as tight as it has to be. Buck watched them this morning and they seemed to be doing okay. He cut them loose this afternoon so he could drive the post crew. When he got back to them later this afternoon, he found that they weren't using the stretcher right, so we had to take it all down, reroll the wire—there are few things I dislike more; someone always gets sliced up when taking down wire—and then put it back up."

As he rolled up his sleeve, Victoria saw the bandana wrapped around his arm.

"John! You got cut! You're hurt!"

"Shh! Don't wake the babies. It's not _that_ bad."

She removed the bandage to reveal two parallel cuts on his forearm. They were about five to six inches long but deeper than she liked. The blood had coagulated and the edges had darkened, making the wounds several hours old. She looked at him with concern and asked, "Oh, John, how did this happen?"

"The perils of training. Matt didn't have a good grip on the wire with the stretcher in one of his early attempts, and the wire slipped out. Fortunately, I had my sleeves rolled up at the time or it would have ruined the shirt, too."

"Better it than you, my husband. Sit down and don't move it. I'm going to get hot water, the sewing kit, and fresh bandages." She kissed him on the forehead before exiting the room.

A short time later, she had his arm resting on a towel as she cleaned the cuts with the boiled water and then some whiskey.

"John, couldn't it have waited until tomorrow to redo that?" she asked as she wiped the area around the wounds with a clean cloth. "Everyone would have been fresh and you might not have gotten hurt."

"Possibly," he replied, "but they needed to learn the consequences of their slackness and their slack wire, so Buck and I stayed with them to teach them the right way until it was done. I don't think they'll mess that up again, but if they do, it will be the last time. We just can't afford to keep employees who keep making the same mistakes over and over again."

"I see. Now, take a drink of the whiskey and be very still. This is going to hurt." Using the needle and thread she had boiled, she made the first stitch.

John flinched but his arm didn't move.

"I'm so sorry, John," she said. With tears in her eyes, she made the second stitch.

A little later, she carefully wrapped his wounds in the bandages and tied them up. "I'll change that again in the morning and you're to be careful with it. Nothing strenuous for the next week, understood?"

"Sí, Señora Cannon," he said with a smile.

She gave him a slightly perturbed look in return before it changed to a smile, but then became quiet as she sat down on the bed. She said, "John, I hate to ask this since you're hurt, but can I borrow a couple of the hands tomorrow?"

Intrigued, John asked, "Victoria, of course, but why do you need them? We don't have any work scheduled on the house and it's not time for our regular supply run."

She shook her head. "No. I need them to take Chun Li back to Tucson."

~HC~

 ** _Author's Note:_** _Thank you to all who are reading this story, and to Junebug, Cathy, Kimani, and wotwasithinkin for the nice comments on Chapter 10 (wot, I couldn't figure out the missing word—help, please)._

 _Barbed wire was patented in the U.S. in 1867 and the improved "modern" version was patented in 1874. It was becoming quite popular in parts of the west in the late 1870s. John Cannon must have been an early adopter since we saw it used several times during the series._

 _Stretching barbed wire is a dangerous task as I've tried to present here. Coiled for shipment, the wire seems to want to resume its manufactured state when being put up. A slip can lead to the wire springing back and slicing through clothing or skin. Modern wire stretcher tools often use a ratchet system or a lever system with an integral clamp to tighten the wire, but "old timey" versions used a tension clamp on the wire and the tool leveraged against the pull post. If the wire wasn't secure in the clamp, it would slip out._


	12. Chapter 12: Wind

**Chapter 12: Wind**

 _The same evening that Victoria stitched John's arm_ , Wind was camped in a hidden copse in the hills northeast of Nogales. It had been two hard days, but he felt he was finally following a decent lead.

On initially arriving in Tucson the day before, he had visited the sheriff's office. After introducing himself and telling them he worked at the High Chaparral Ranch, he asked if they might know where to find Señora Violeta.

"Why would you be coming all the way to town to look for her here?" asked Deputy Rick. "Doesn't she work there at the ranch?"

"She left and I need to speak with her."

The deputy rubbed his chin as he thought. "Well, I think she used to live with her brother's family south of town. The García family, I believe."

The sheriff, who was seated with his boots on his desk reading the newspaper, said, "Won't find 'em there, though. They had some trouble a couple of years ago and moved away. Not sure where they went." Looking up at Wind for the first time, he added, "Not sure they want to be found, either." His eyes returned to the paper.

There was something strange in the sheriff's tone, so after thanking them, Wind had visited Mr. Ebenezer Binns at the newspaper office.

"Lots and lots of Garcías around here. Almost as bad as Smith, Murphy, or Kelly in New York," he griped. "Would think people would get more variety in their last names."

He thought for a few moments and finally said, "If they had trouble, it must have been of a personal nature. We wouldn't report that. Sorry, young man, I can't help you. Please give Mr. John Cannon my best regards."

The newspaperman had turned back to the article on which he was working, seemingly forgetting Wind's presence as if the young man was as invisible as his namesake.

Stops at two stores, the bank, the telegraph office, and the livery stable hadn't been helpful either since those who didn't know him generally viewed him as an unwelcome Indian rather than as the individual person he was. Somewhat used to this, he kept his frustration in check as he headed to the cafe, purposefully avoiding the saloon due to past experience of a somewhat similar nature.

His reception at the cafe wasn't any better, though. The owner had yelled obscenities at him and told him to get out when he tried to enter. Wind was almost out the door when he noticed the blonde waitress catch his eye and nod her head toward the back of the building. She quickly looked down at the table she was cleaning before her boss caught her.

A few minutes later, he was standing in the shade behind the building when the woman peeked out the back door. Spotting him, she had stepped out and around the corner where her employer wouldn't see her.

"Hi, I'm Millie. Can I get you something? That jerk Carson wouldn't let me serve you inside, but he won't care if you eat out here as long as you can pay for it and he can't see you."

Ordering the lunch special, he told the woman who he was and who he was seeking.

"You work with Buck! Oh, he's a sweet-talker, that man. You tell him I said 'hi.' I'm sorry I don't know the person you're looking for, but I do have an idea who might."

An hour later, Wind had brought Jama to a halt in front of the big white Catholic church on the south side of Tucson.

The Mission San Xavier del Bac was the largest and one of the oldest buildings in town. Originally a Spanish mission, the church had been largely abandoned and neglected for a number of years following the revolution and the Mexican-American war, but with the Gadsden Purchase, stability finally returned to the region. The Church had the building cleaned up to begin serving the faithful of the area once more.

Wind looked at the building, its furnishings, and its decorations. He normally put little stock in material things, but this display was pretty impressive.

"May I help you, son?" asked the approaching Padre.

Wind introduced himself and told the priest his mission. The man shook his head, as if sadly when asked about Violeta. "I'm sorry, I can't help you. Please pray if you wish and then go." The man hurried off toward the back of the church.

Wind prayed from time to time, but his beliefs were a mixture of his mother's and father's peoples, so he had no need for the walls or the ornamentation that surrounded him to do it. He was turning to head toward the exit when he saw a habited woman coming toward him.

"Welcome, young man. I am Sister Cecilia of the Sisters of St. Joseph of Carondelet. We run the schools here at the mission and assist with the church's operation. Please, join me for a walk in the garden."

Intrigued by her request, Wind had agreed and the two entered the garden. On coming to a bench, the Sister had waved for him to be seated. When he looked apprehensive, she gave him a little smile as she said, "I won't bite, you know," and took a seat.

After Wind joined her, she turned to him and said, "A British scientist with an expedition that came through a couple of years ago looked at our church and he told me that its acoustics—that's something to do with the properties of sound—are quite strange. Personally, I choose to think that it is God whispering to us when we really need to hear. Now, tell me, young man, why are you looking for Señora Violeta? Or is it really Violeta that you seek?"

~HC~

When Wind had revealed his true purpose, Sister Cecilia had nodded. She closed her eyes for a period—whether in meditation, prayer, or napping, he wasn't sure—but when she opened them, she had finally put him on the current trail.

Now, he was only a few miles from the destination she had given him. He hoped that he would be able to see Easabella tomorrow.

His concerns swept over him again. With this being the first time he'd ever felt anything like this, he wasn't sure about anything. In addition, after the reception he'd received in Tucson, he said a brief prayer that she would even agree to see him.

Finally, he faced his other big concern. He hoped, too, that if she would see him, he wouldn't stumble over the words he wanted to say or, worse still, say them and scare her away.

Looking up at the stars in the sky above, he finally fell asleep with those words running through his mind.

~HC~

 _ **Author's Note:**_

 _Thank you to wotwasithinkin, Cathy, Junebug, and Nillis82 for the recent wonderful feedback. There's an example right below that shows why your feedback is so important._

 _Wot, thanks so much for the feedback on the sentence. I studied it some more and was able to diagram the main parts but found it to be pretty confusing, so I took it to the brain-trust at Writer's Anonymous (in this case, cathrl, Igenlode Wordsmith, and MagpieTales—thanks to you, too!) for their analysis. They agreed it was technically correct but that it was also somewhat contradictory and overly complex. With all of your hints that it is not a shining example of my best work, the revised version is:_

"Her gentle touch, the inflections in her voice, and a subtle tilt of her head brought a smile to John's face as he took his wife in his arms."

 _Chapter 10 has been updated accordingly, so thanks again for pointing it out._

 _In response to another comment, the outline for the story to resolve the various plotlines is pretty firm, but the number of additional perspectives (and chapters) to get there is still a little squishy._

 _For this chapter, Wikipedia says that "García" is the third most common surname in Mexico._

 _San Xavier del Bac was founded as a Catholic mission in 1692, with the current building being completed in 1797. In 1859 San Xavier became part of the Diocese of Santa Fe, and in 1866 Tucson became an incipient diocese and regular services were held at the Mission once again. After receiving requests from the bishop in Santa Fe and the new bishop in Tucson, Wikipedia says seven Sisters of the Congregation of the Sisters of St. Joseph of Carondelet_ ** _"_** _began the long journey to the west in April 1870, traveling on the newly completed transcontinental railroad to San Francisco, by steamer to San Diego, and by covered wagon across the American Desert to Tucson, Arizona. Their first school, the future St. Joseph's Academy, opened on June 6, 1870, eleven days after their arrival in Tucson." They continued to expand their ministry over time and a school for the Papago Indians was opened in 1873. They would also play an important part in the operation of St. Mary's Hospital when it opened in Tucson in 1880._


	13. Chapter 13: Chun Li

**Chapter 13: Chun Li**

Having traveled through much of the American west since arriving from China about twelve years earlier, he realized that to date, almost all of his travels had been on foot, often pulling a two wheeled cart behind him.

Horses had been for the nobility and the army in his homeland, not for pulling heavy wagons like in America or for riding like most here seemed to do. Most long-distance shipping in China was done by boat or barge, and wagons, when used, were generally pulled by oxen or water buffalo. Only wealthier farmers or village cooperatives even had these creatures for tilling the soil; most such work was done manually with shovels or hoes by veritable armies of peasant farmers.

Oh, how life was different in America!

Now, Chun Li was approaching Tucson while driving the Cannon's buckboard with Pedro seated beside him giving instructions or helpful tips when needed. He was doing his best to understand and emulate what he was being told. Chun Li really liked being able to add a new skill to his abilities. One never knew when it might come in handy.

However, his mind was really elsewhere. Throughout the ride, he'd been trying to figure out what he would say when he arrived.

~HC~

 _A short time later on the outskirts of Tucson:_

"I told you not to go."

Chun Li nodded. "I know, but it was a great opportunity."

"Was. You messed things up and now you're back, wanting us to get in even deeper?"

"But it's an even greater opportunity now," he replied rather desperately.

"No, it's not. If we do it, then we lose the laundry!" Jin Ming-huá was stern in her assertion. "When we come back in—what, three weeks?—we will have lost all of our customers."

"Why?" he asked. "Most of our customers have been very happy with our work."

"Most, true, but the Mexican woman who runs the other laundry won't just give our customers back, you know. If we leave, she will be glad to take them and do what it takes to keep them. We make almost nothing now, but it's ours! We'll make even less if we have to undercut her price to get them back. Besides, we probably won't be able to get the water back for the laundry either, and then what do we do? It may seem like a great opportunity to you, but it is bad business to give up what we have on such a slim chance. We have the proverbial bird in hand, despite how desperately thin it is. Don't mess this up for us, husband."

Chun Li was silent as he wrung the rinse water out of the clean pants. He put a flagged pin on the line to identify the start of the new order and then folded first one and then the other leg over the line and pinned it in place. Starting the next piece, he replied, "Ming-huá, I have given my word. We must do it."

He saw his wife nod slightly as she bowed her head and put even more effort than usual into working another pair of pants against the scrub board. When this pair was done, she moved it into the basket ready to be rinsed. Looking up at him with tears on her cheeks, she said, "Then we must, my husband. I sincerely hope and pray you know what you're doing."

Feeling the tiniest victory in her acquiescence, Chun Li was silently agreeing with Ming-huá.

 _So do I, my wife. So do I._

~HC~

 ** _Follow-up Note:_** _Big thank yous to Cathy, Junebug, Guest (wotwasithinkin, I believe!), and Susie for the recent nice comments on the story. Other readers are invited to leave even a short note to let me know your thoughts, too. Thanks to all!_


	14. Chapter 14: Wind

**Chapter 14: Wind**

The unincorporated village of Nogales, Sonora, was dead ahead; from what Wind could see, dead was a pretty good description of the place. As he started down the main street, almost no one seemed to be around and his Jama was the only horse in sight.

Started as a single ranch in 1841, the area had grown very slowly, and the sale of the land just to the north almost 25 years earlier to the United States hadn't helped. Now, in the autumn of 1877, there were just a few businesses down the main street, a couple of which appeared to be closed for good, with a few houses, stables, and other buildings scattered around. As he neared it, he saw that a saloon near the center of town seemed to be the only place getting any business.

Five men were seated on chairs in the shade outside the saloon under the overhang. Most were leaning back on their chairs with straw sombreros hung low over their faces providing a bit more cover from the noonday sun.

The soft _clomp clomp clomp_ of Jama's hooves on the dusty street caught the attention of an older man who nudged another as Wind approached. By the time he reined up in front of them, the looks he was receiving from all five weren't good. Whereas many of the people of Tucson had given him a frosty reception, the looks of the men of Nogales appeared quite frigid in comparison. Continuing on after stopping might be seen as weakness and asking for trouble, so he took a chance.

"Buenas tardes," he said. "Por favor. ¿Dónde está la iglesia?" _Where is the church?_

The response was derisive laughter.

"Tubutama," replied a grizzled man, who looked older than the first, to another round of laughter. His response referred to the nearest Spanish mission church still operating on the Mexican side of the border. "Sixty miles through the mountains," he said, pointing to the southwest.

One of the younger men, a sneering man with a hook nose, spoke up, "Sí, go there, Apache. There is nothing else here for _your kind_ to take."

His _kind._ Despite his attitude and experience, such remarks were still cutting and were a clear indication that he would receive no help from these men. That Wind's clothing wasn't of Apache origin seemed to carry little sway with them; only his apparent race seemed to matter.

"I'm not an Apache," he replied, "But thank you. Good day."

He wheeled Jama around and continued on down the street looking for the little church. Sister Cecilia had told him it was very small in comparison to San Xavier del Bac.

A whisper in Spanish from the older man reached his ear. "No, Carlos. Drop it."

The old whisperer received a sharp expletive in response, and then Wind heard what was, at least to him, a new and particularly vulgar curse in Spanish on his "Apache" lineage.

With each additional step away from the men, Wind left their ill feelings further behind, but he actually understood them to some degree. With Geronimo being forced onto the San Carlos Reservation well north of the U.S. border a few months earlier, the situation with the Apaches was the most peaceful it had been in years. Still, their raids in the recent past on isolated farmhouses outside small communities such as Nogales and now the nearly constant rumors of Indian uprisings weighed heavily on the local residents. The attacks had been returned with equal vigor; almost everyone on both sides knew someone who had been lost in the violence.

With the men now well behind him, Wind put such thoughts out of his mind and continued on down the street examining each building in turn. As he neared the south side of the village, he saw a small adobe building with a small cross nailed on the front wall. There was a little garden on one side of the building with a pole topped by a small iron bell.

This, he guessed, was his first stop and he hoped his destination would be only a short distance beyond that.

Dismounting, he draped Jama's reins over the hitching post and started toward the door to the little church. As he did, his hand slid into his pouch and he pulled out a letter.

Sister Cecilia had escorted him to a small office in San Xavier where she'd invited him to sit while she spent a few minutes penning the letter. She'd folded and sealed the paper with a bit of wax before handing it to him. "Ask for Sister Beatriz at the little church in Nogales. This letter will introduce you and explain your mission. I've requested for them to give you what aid they can. God be with you, my son."

He was nearing the door to the little church when a man called out in Spanish, "Apache! Get away from there. We told you there was nothing here for you to steal. And we're not going to let you people kill any more of us."

The three younger men from the saloon, fueled by their hatred or possibly mid-day tequila, were shuffling down the dusty street toward him carrying wooden clubs that appeared to have been cut from tree branches. The largest of the three popped his club against his other palm, making a loud, smacking sound.

Not wanting trouble, Wind replied, "I told you I'm no Apache and I'm not here to steal. I'm delivering a letter; that is all. Leave me in peace and I'll do the same with you."

"You gave up the right to peace when your band killed Javier Muñiz and burned his house last week. Tomás and Old José may not have the stomach for this, but we do."

The three men were spreading out as if to encircle him, so Wind backed off to keep them in front of him. He wanted no fight, but he was unarmed except for his knife; his Winchester repeater rifle was on Jama. Seeing all three men now smacking the clubs in their palms, Wind knew he couldn't allow them to surround him.

The large man in the center made the first move, swinging a roundhouse blow that Wind was able to dodge by jumping back before taking a step forward and driving his foot against the man's right knee. The big man cried out in pain as he twisted and fell toward Wind.

Even as Wind jumped back to avoid being entangled by the falling man, the pockmarked man to his left was darting in and making an overhead swing with his club. It missed by inches but the force of the blow caused the man to have to break his swing to avoid hitting the ground. Wind's left elbow shot out and hit him in the jaw, hard, causing the man to trip over his club.

The hook nose man on the right had timed his approach just right, making a backhanded blow. Seeing it too late, Wind was only able to raise his shoulder slightly before the club hit. Despite being a generally weaker type of blow, the man did it quite forcefully; the impact sent pain radiating through Wind's whole arm, making it useless as Hook Nose prepared for another blow.

There was no time to waste since the man on the left was also starting to rise. Wind struck a downward blow with his left fist, hitting the man in the face once more and causing him to drop back to the ground. Wind tried to step around the man as Hook Nose started his swing; another blow like the first could mean the end for him.

The high-pitched shout came from the door of the little building. "¡Détente! _Stop it_!"

The distraction or Wind's attempted dodge or some combination of the two was just enough for Hook Nose to miss this time, giving the nun time to step in between the combatants. The angry man looked like he wasn't going to let the woman stop him, but the arrival of the other two Sisters caused him to throw down his club and help the big man limp away. The pockmarked man, shaking his head, followed unsteadily a moment later.

"I am Sister Beatriz and this is God's house, as small as it is. There will be no more fighting here, young man."

"Thank you, Sister Beatriz, Sisters," said Wind, nodding to all three. With his right arm still numb, he held out the letter with his left hand. "I'm sorry, fighting was not my intent. I came here to give you this and ask for your help."

~HC~

 _ **Author's Note:**_ _Thank you to_ _wotwasithinkin, Junebug, and Cathy for the nice comments on Chapter 13. Chun Li is my original character, but he and Jin Ming-huá play guest roles and important parts in the story, so I really appreciate the feedback._

 _Nogales would become an official town in 1884._

 _Geronimo and his tribe entered the San Carlos Reservation in February 1877. He would "break out" of reservations three times in the years that followed before finally being captured in 1886 and sent to Florida and later Oklahoma as a prisoner of war._

 _Readers who enjoy westerns are invited to check out my new Lone Ranger story entitled "The Summer of '78." It's a three chapter arc based in part on the events that played out on screen and what I suspect might have happened later. If you want to give it a shot, Chapters 1 and 3 are connected but standalone stories; Chapter 2 is infill explaining how the two chapters are tied together so feel free to skip it if you're not interested in the details. Thanks go to wotwasithinkin for the nice comments on it; wot, I appreciate your comments and completely understand. The story may be extended with other standalone chapters or arcs._

 _Finally, just in case anyone might be interested,_ ** _The 50th Anniversary of the High Chaparral_** _event is being held in Burbank, California, from September 14 through 16, 2017. Henry Darrow (Mano), Don Collier (Sam), Rudy Ramos (Wind), and Marie Gomez (Pearlita) are among the currently scheduled guests. I'm not associated with this in any way, but would love to attend! For more info, visit_

50thanniversarythehighchaparral dot com


	15. Chapter 15: Victoria

**Chapter 15: Victoria**

It was early afternoon the next day when Victoria heard the watchman on the roof call out, "Riders approaching!"

She was instantly alert and she caught her breath. Riders could be anything from some of the hands returning to guests to a horde of attackers.

A moment later, a second callout occurred. "It's Pedro and someone on the buckboard pulling something."

A sigh of relief followed. She eased Betsy back into the bassinet. Both children were down for their nap so she had to start dinner now if she stood a prayer of having it done on time. She hoped the buckboard didn't mean guests.

She was going out the front door as she saw Chun Li draw the buckboard to a halt. A two wheeled cart was tied behind it and Pedro was telling Joe about it.

"Yeah, I had to lash a limb across it kinda' like a...ah...a reverse single tree. Then I roped'em together so it'd swivel and so it wouldn't tip up! Not bad, sí?" He was clearly proud of the ingenuity of his effort and Joe was nodding in agreement.

Victoria turned to see Chun Li, already down from the buckboard, helping a small woman dismount. With long dark hair pulled behind her head and braided, she wore a blue Chinese-style dress with white flowers similar to some Victoria had seen during her stay in San Francisco.

Chun Li was holding his hand out with the woman's hand resting atop his when he came to a stop in front of Victoria.

He bowed and, in broken English, said, "Mrs. Cannon, my wife, Jin Ming-huá." He said something brief to Ming-huá that Victoria didn't understand and then concluded with "Mrs. Cannon."

"Li, please tell your wife welcome to High Chaparral for me. She is quite lovely."

The woman smiled and then replied, "As are you, Mrs. Cannon, and thank you for compliment and welcome. My husband and I appreciate opportunity to be here to assist you."

Victoria's eyes widened. "Your English is outstanding, Jin Ming-huá. Where did you learn to speak it so well?"

The Chinese woman blushed as she lowered her head. "Many thanks, Mrs. Cannon. I work...worked in San Francisco for six years while my husband worked on railroads. I took English classes to learn new language so I could get better jobs. I continue...have continued...to study it over the years since I still make many mistakes. Your compliment makes effort...well worthwhile. And please, call me Ming-huá."

"Very good, Ming-huá. I was about to start working on dinner. Please park your cart and bring your things into Violeta's room. You'll be staying there while she is away."

"Mrs. Cannon, we do not wish to bother you. If you do not mind, we set up tent behind house? We live in it and not bother your family, okay?"

Victoria was quite surprised at the request, but, seeing no problems with it, agreed and told them the general area where it should be placed. Chun Li was nodding, but Ming-huá spoke something rapidly in Chinese to her husband. He bowed to Victoria again and then climbed back up on the buckboard and started around the house.

"Li will set up our home. Now, what can I do to help prepare dinner?"

~HC~

Victoria had been quite impressed with not only Ming-huá's English but also with her cooking skills. The children had awakened, forcing Victoria to leave the woman on her own for a while, but when she came back downstairs with the babies, the smell immediately told her that things were well under control. Ming-huá had several questions about finding cooking tools, utensils, or ingredients, but the dinner was well-ahead of Victoria's usual solo schedule.

This, she felt, could work out well.

~HC~

Later that evening, Victoria was feeding Bobby in the nursery when John entered.

"Victoria, I must say, you did a very nice job with dinner this evening. So MingWhaaaah was able to help you?"

"John, it's Ming-huá, less 'whh' and not as long on the 'ah'," she corrected. "And yes, she actually did much of the work without assistance, and she's finishing the dishes right now. I told her to leave after she's finished with that. I'm sure she has work to do to set up their tent. If she keeps doing like this, I think she will work out very nicely. "

"Well, that's great. I know you need the help. I'm going out to meet with Sam on tomorrow's assignments and I'll check on the feedback on dinner in the bunkhouse. If it was anything like ours, there shouldn't be any complaints."

He leaned in for a quick kiss and a little pat for his baby boy, and then did the same to Betsy in the bassinet before heading out.

Victoria finished with the kids and after getting them to sleep, went back downstairs to check on things. The kitchen looked spotless and everything seemed to be in order.

Stepping out back, the last remnants of twilight were rapidly disappearing, but she could see Li and Ming-huá working around their tent with a little candle lantern. They were really trying to make themselves at home.

As she turned to go back inside, Victoria suddenly realized something.

She didn't really like the location of that tent.

~HC~

 ** _Author's Note:_** _Thanks so much to Cathy for the nice comments on Chapter 14. Your reviews, comments, follows, and favorites are greatly appreciated!_


	16. Chapter 16: Wind

**Chapter 16: Wind**

At about the same time Victoria was looking out behind her home, Wind's body was telling him that he had had enough for the day.

Bringing Jama to a stop in what appeared to be a scrub thicket, he threw his leg over the saddle horn and slid down. He regretted his native-style dismount as his feet hit the ground: the impact sent a jolt up his arm and through his shoulder that made his brain feel as if it was about to explode.

He tied his horse to a branch and pulled his blanket off the saddle. Doing a quick check in the fading light, he decided that this looked like a good place to bed down for the night. It would be nothing like his bed from the night before…

~HC~

After initially refusing treatment, repeatedly, following his fight with the men in Nogales on the afternoon before, he'd finally had to trade allowing the nuns to patch him up in return for the information that Sister Beatriz promised would help him. It was probably a good thing since the initial numbness had started wearing off about that time and the pain started slipping through.

With a large purplish bruise, Sister Beatriz had warned him, "Señor Wind, this is going to hurt," just a moment before she started to probe his arm with her fingers. The concerned look on her face belied the nodding she was doing.

"I'm no doctor, but my four years serving as a nurse with the Mexican Army makes me the closest thing this village has. The good news is the bone is not broken—"

Wind felt a flood of relief, but Beatriz continued before he could speak, "—however, it's quite possible that it's cracked. Therefore, we need to immobilize it for a while, so I'm going to put a splint on your arm and sling it to your chest so you won't try to use it. You'll have to rest for a few days while the swelling goes down and the bruising fades, and then continue taking it easy on that arm for a few weeks. Pretty soon, you'll be as good as new."

"Sister Beatriz, days? Weeks? I need to be on my way today."

"Young man, you're not going anywhere tonight other than to that bed if you don't want to fall out of your saddle on your head. As hard as it is, you might not notice, but I think even you would wonder after a while why the world was upside down and your feet were sticking up in the air." She wiggled two fingers up in the air, getting a little smile out of Wind.

"See, isn't that better?" she said with a smile. "Now, relax, Señor. You will stay here at least tonight, even if that means my Sisters and I have to sit on you." She smiled again as he chuckled. "Good. A bit of humor makes the pain more bearable, even if you don't realize I'm serious. That pain you're feeling now will become a dull throb eventually, but it is going to become sharp pains again if you touch it, bump it, or if you were to somehow get into another tussle. It won't be much better tomorrow, but at least, if you get an early start, you'll be able to get far enough away to avoid Carlos and his friends if they decide to come back."

"Sister Beatriz, I'm really not an Apache. Do you know why Carlos hates them so much?"

She paused as she looked at him with a sad expression. "Why does anyone hate another? Carlos is a bitter young man and has what he feels are ample reasons, I'm sure. The misfortune of bearing the same name taken for the Apache reservation in the Arizona Territory is but another straw in his stack of grievances."

The pain on her face was obvious as she took his free hand before continuing. "The Apaches have raided haciendas nearby in the past. Homes and stables have been burned, livestock stolen, and a number of people have been killed. The people who have so little to give have had so much taken from them. Then, his friend Javier died inside his house when it burned about a week ago. Carlos and his friends blamed a small band of Apaches that had been sighted a few miles from town just a couple of days earlier. Carlos said that Javier would have fled the burning home if something hadn't stopped him; they believed his fear of Apaches outside his home had kept him pinned inside while the smoke overcame him."

Wind nodded as Sister Beatriz resumed the job of binding his arm up to his chest. "That makes sense, I guess. Was there any actual sign of Apaches at Javier's home? Did anyone try to track them?"

Tying the knot, Beatriz responded, "It would make perfect sense if it wasn't also for the fact that Javier Muniz wouldn't have fled the home if he was passed out drunk from too much tequila when the fire started. Considering that he drunk himself into a stupor most nights, either at the cantina, at home, or at any number of points between them, who's to say that he wasn't drunk that night, too? And no, there were no signs of Apaches, at least that Carlos and his friends could find. They said the Indians had swept out the signs of their passage."

Wind nodded again. "They could have done that, but what would they have gained? Was there anything they could have taken outside his house? Horses, cattle, goats? Or maybe something inside?"

"What is ever to be gained from violence?" She sighed. "No, Javier Muniz was extremely thin from drinking every peso he had. He barely ate and had nothing that anyone would likely have wanted. That's what the lieutenant concluded, too."

"Lieutenant? Police or army?"

The nun glanced down before looking back up at him. "Nogales is a small village that may never be anything more. There is no law enforcement here, so the padre—he lives in the room at the end of the house—asked the lieutenant from a Mexican army patrol to examine the ruins a couple of days after Javier's remains were buried. He saw no signs of Apaches and concluded that the fire was most likely an accident. Carlos and his friends may never accept that."

She'd looked at him for a moment and then asked, "Now, young man, you are to rest. We will bring you nourishment in a little while, and I will give you the information you seek in the morning."

~HC~

Sister Beatriz had been good to her word and he'd left Nogales early that morning with some food from the Sisters and what he hoped was a final destination.

Now, with darkness having fallen and Jama fed and groomed, Wind took a few bites of the food but found he wasn't very hungry. He believed he was about two thirds of the way to the little village where Sister Beatriz thought he would find the people he sought. Her parting words haunted him:

"Señor Wind, may God go with you."

"Thank you, Sister Beatriz."

"Whether you will find what you want, I cannot say; that is between you and God. If you do find what you seek, I don't know if it will be what you really want; that will be between you and the young lady."

With that thought going through his mind, he positioned himself as well as he could so he wouldn't shift during the night and hurt his arm further.

Sometime later, exhaustion overcame him and he finally fell asleep.

~HC~

 ** _Author's Note:_** _Thank you to wotwasithinkin, Junebug, and Kimani for the comments on Chapters 14 and/or 15. I really appreciate your feedback in the form of reviews, comments, follows, and favorites._

 _Bones that were badly broken (i.e., compound fractures) in the 1800s and before were very difficult to set and heal properly. If they could be set, there were often misalignments (since X-rays were still decades in the future) that made some sort of disfigurement permanent. If they could not be set or if they would not heal when set as well as possible, it was sometimes necessary to remove the broken limb. Infections were common, and death often resulted either from the infection, if not from the amputation itself. For fractures cared for using modern techniques, healing of a humerus bone in the upper arm can vary from as little as six weeks to twelve weeks or longer. Serious compound fractures can take significantly longer._

 _Despite Sister Beatriz's belief, Nogales didn't remain a village forever. I mentioned earlier that it became an official town in 1884, and it finally became a Roman Catholic Diocese in 2015. Its current population is a little over 220,000 people._


	17. Chapter 17: John

**Chapter 17: John**

Having gone over the latest updates on the pasture and water situations, John confirmed what he had expected the night before: it was time to move the herd to another area of the ranch.

It took time for vegetation on the range to grow and water to be replenished, so the cows would be moved out the next morning. Since home duty was generally seen as more comfortable even if not easier, the hands wouldn't be particularly pleased about the move, but such was life on the ranch.

Following a quick check of the books, John put the ledger back in the safe and relocked it. He exited his office just in time to see the back of Victoria's green skirt disappear around the corner as she went up the stairs. He smiled at the thought of his lovely wife, but he still had work to do before he could go upstairs with her so he headed out the front door.

"Eve'nin, Brother John," said Buck, who was sitting in a chair off to the side of the door.

"Buenas tardes," echoed Mano, sitting in the other seat while holding a drink in his hand. "John, what's the decision on moving the herd? Tomorrow?"

Of course, everyone on the ranch would be wondering if the move to new pastures would be tomorrow or the next day. He wouldn't be surprised if there was even some betting taking place in the bunkhouse.

"Yes, it's time," he replied. He saw Mano stand up before he could continue, so he changed what he was planning to say. "And Mano, I'm heading out to tell Sam now, so don't think you can beat me out there in time for another round of betting."

John's brother-in-law grinned sheepishly as he sat back down. "Oh, John, you wound me," he said rather dramatically, holding a fist over his heart, but the effect was somewhat lost due to Buck's laughter.

Hiding his own smile, John held up a hand in a slow wave goodbye as he walked away toward the bunkhouse. There he saw Sam outside speaking with Rodger, one of the newer hands as John approached. The young man thanked Sam and then said, "Hello, Sir," to John as he headed into the bunkhouse.

"Good evening, Mr. Cannon."

"Good evening, Sam. You're correct. It's time to move them."

Sam nodded. He'd been working with John Cannon long enough that he could practically read the man's mind about ranch related issues.

"Everything's set, Sir, including the next rotation schedule. Cookie's back and has the chuck wagon ready to move out, too."

"Good," replied John. He went over the plan based on his recent checks of watering holes and grazing lands, and Sam was nodding in agreement when he finished.

"That sounds good, Sir. I'll go break the news to the boys."

"Thanks, Sam. Who has time off over the next few days?"

"Joe, Tex, and Bert are on the list, with Joe being gone for a week."

John looked puzzled at that. "What's going on with Joe? He doesn't usually take long leaves."

Sam smiled. "My little brother has met someone interesting in town. I think he wants to see just how interesting and how interested she is in him." He chucked as he added, "It's sort of funny seeing him nervous and out of his natural element."

"Well, Sam, I wish him well. One other thing: how was dinner tonight? Any issues?"

"Thanks, Sir. And no, dinner was great. This was probably the most successful meal overall since Señora Violeta has been gone. Did the Chinese lady help?"

"Ming-huá," said John, pronouncing it correctly, "and yes, Victoria said she was a big help and did parts of it on her own."

"That's good, Sir. If she can keep cooking like that, it should keep the boys happy. Of course, the ones out on the range with Cookie will probably still complain."

"I'd wonder what was going on if they didn't," agreed John. "Will you let the boys know that situation's under control now, too?"

"Sure, Sir." Sam appeared to be about to say something else but he looked a bit strange as he turned his head to follow a man walking toward the bunkhouse with something big in his hands. "What on Earth?" he said under his breath. He started to move that way with John right behind him.

It was Chun Li, who stepped into the bunkhouse before Sam and John could get there. Through the open door, John heard the man say, "Mrs. Victory send Chun Li bunkhouse for wash. Chun Li wash clothes 'morrow. You give, I wash."

On entering, John saw that Reno was grinning. "Well, I'll take you up on that! Here's mine," he said as he handed the man a rolled up ball of dirty clothes. Dust puffed out of it when Reno slapped a hand on top.

Li pulled a pencil from behind his ear and made a note in what appeared to be cryptic writing on a piece of paper. A small tag went into the shirt pocket. He nodded in apparent appreciation to Reno and said, "More wash?"

Soon there was a steady stream of men giving their dirty clothes to the little man. Sam and John stood to the side smiling as Li made little notes on the paper and placed each set of items into the big basket with their little tag.

To John, it looked like a lot of work. Those were some really filthy, dusty clothes and there sure looked like a lot of them. He hoped that the Chinese man would be able to get the dirty clothes clean and wouldn't lead to any more complaints like his food had.

Saying goodnight to Sam and the men while the big basket was still being filled, he headed toward the house, looking forward to spending a little quiet time with Victoria. It looked to be a quiet night, but his eyes were ever watchful as he walked, searching out the guard on the roof, and then the roving guard walking the perimeter near the fence.

He noticed that Buck and Mano had gone to bed when he entered the house. After checking the lamp left for the nightly guard change, he was soon on the way up the stairs. All appeared to be well at the High Chaparral.

Victoria was sitting in bed reading when he entered the bedroom. She put a single finger to her lips indicating the sleeping babies in the bassinet and then put her book on the bedside table. She turned the covers back for him, and then patted his spot with a welcoming look.

He nodded and quietly undressed for bed. He was hanging up his clothes when it was his turn for a strange thought.

Not only did he hope that Chun Li would be able to get all of the clothes clean, he also hoped the man would be able to get them all back to their rightful owners.

~HC~

 _ **Author's Note:** Thank you to wotwasithinkin for the nice comments on Chapter 16. Reader comments are always welcomed and appreciated! _

_Also, it's a late addition but please check out the new cover page and let me know what you think! Thanks!_


	18. Chapter 18: The Mayor

**Chapter 18: The Mayor**

The following afternoon at about the same time that Victoria and Ming-huá were starting dinner, that Chun Li was putting the last batch of laundry on the line to dry, and that Joe was dismounting from his horse with a bouquet of flowers in his hand, the mayor of the little village of Casa Cuerva in northern Sonora was busy checking the stock in his little general store. Fortunately it was still relatively early in the afternoon because the mayor still had a great deal to do.

Yes, the mayor of Casa Cuerva was a very busy man. In addition to running his store, he was responsible for managing the village's farm, its small cattle ranch, and the brickworks. While there was someone else in charge at each of these other operations, they all looked to him for direction and approval. With each passing month, the mayor tried to push more of the responsibility off on his managers, and with each passing month, they found new ways to resist and to look to him for new answers.

The mayor had initially been quite reluctant to come back home to the village, but after the effort he and the villagers had put into securing it from Don Sebastian, he'd really been in no mood to let it fail. Therefore, he'd packed his bags, told his employers and friends he would be gone for a while, and moved to Casa Cuerva expecting his presence to be needed for a few months.

Being elected the _alcalde_ , the mayor, was something of a setback in his plans, particularly when he found out it was for a two year term, but he soon found that it would probably take that long to get everything running properly and prosperously so he could resume his own life. Therefore, he settled in to make the best of it while getting things organized.

The first major roadblock wasn't Don Sebastian, as he'd expected, but a 35 year old widow with dark eyes and dark hair that unlocked his bachelor heart. Despite his resistance against his own feelings, they were eventually married and he was elected to a second term. His adopted sons were now 12 and 10, and their baby girl was now approaching her first birthday. Despite his original plans, the mayor of Casa Cuerva suspected that the village would now be their permanent home.

It was a distant sound, but a bell rang once, twice, three times on the west side of the village. The mayor was immediately at attention, putting down his clipboard and moving toward the open front door. A look down the street revealed a figure entering town on a horse. From what he could see, the visitor appeared to be an Indian.

One of the mayor's first actions had been to build the watchtowers on each end of town and to work out a watch schedule for mutual protection of the villagers during times of trouble. Every man in the village took his turn during such times, but with the Apaches having gone to the reservation and Mexico having a period of relative peace, the towers were currently unmanned. Instead, each home had a bell that could be used to alert others when unknown visitors entered the village. Someone had seen the Indian and sounded the alarm.

Out of habit, the mayor checked his Colt revolver and then quickly went back to the counter where he pulled his double barrel shotgun from its regular hiding spot. He put it to the side, just inside the door, so he could get to it more easily in the event of a real emergency.

When he stepped out on the front porch, he saw that several other villagers had also armed themselves. He nodded to those nearby as he stepped down into the street to await the visitor who was heading his way.

The sling on the young man's arm indicated that he was probably no threat, but looks could be deceiving, so the mayor made no sign to his townspeople. It was when the young man stopped in front of him that mayor finally recognized him as the youth said, "Señor Vaquero, my name is Wind, and I work at the High Chaparral. We met when you visited a couple of months ago following the birth of the twins. I hope you might be able to assist me."

Vaquero nodded. "Wind, of course. Come in, por favor." He nodded to the townspeople nearby and they quickly returned to their own business.

Wind carefully dismounted in the white man's fashion and Vaquero swept with a hand indicating that he was welcome to enter.

"It looks like you've had a little accident," he said. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, thank you."

When the young man didn't volunteer any further details or information, Vaquero offered him a seat and a drink. "How can I help you?"

"Señor, you know Señora Violeta, the housekeeper at High Chaparral?"

"Yes, of course. Is something wrong?

Wind looked a bit flustered, but he seemed to get a hold of himself as he continued. "No, nothing's wrong, Señor. She and her niece, the young lady, Easabella, left High Chaparral recently and I'm trying to find them."

Vaquero paused. This was quite unusual. He knew that John Cannon trusted the young man, so he said, "Wind, I understand that they'll be heading home to High Chaparral in a couple of weeks. Was there something that couldn't wait?"

The look on Wind's face was a mixture of surprise and relief, but he said, "No, Señor, but I wasn't aware they'd be returning. That is good news, but I came looking for them because I, ah, need to speak with Easabella. Are they here in Casa Cuerva? And if not, can you tell me where I can find them?"

Movement at the front door caught Vaquero's eye. The light of his life entered the store with their baby girl on her hip. Seeing that Vaquero was busy, she smiled at him and moved back behind the counter as a female customer entered right behind her.

His heart warmed from having found love only a relatively short time before, Vaquero actually understood more about what he was witnessing than Wind might have guessed. He smiled as he pointed to the east. "Of course, son. The García family lives in the fourth house down on the left, but the young lady you seek isn't there right now."

Glancing at the pocket watch his wife had given him as a wedding present, he added, "But she should be home shortly.

~HC~

 _ **Author's Note:**_ _Thank you to wotwasithinkin and Junebug for the nice comments on Chapter 17. Reader comments are always welcomed and appreciated!_

 _Also, if you haven't seen it yet, please check out the new cover page for the story and let me know what you think! Thanks!_


	19. Chapter 19: Isabella

**Chapter 19: Isabella**

 _One two three, one two three, one two three…_

Sandals in hand, Isabella was practicing the steps that Mrs. Cannon had taught her, waltzing down the dusty street as if being twirled around by the young man of her dreams. She hoped they would someday go to New York and London...and even Paris!...and be able to do the dance for real. Mrs. Cannon and Aunt Violeta both agreed that she was quite graceful in her movements, and Mrs. Cannon even said she could end up on stage if she took classes and practiced enough.

 _One two three, one two—_

Laughter interrupted her reverie and she abruptly stopped.

Looking to the side, she saw her cousin Pablo trailing behind the little burro turning Uncle Jorge's grist mill. The boy's eyes were focused solely on her and her dancing and he seemed to be enjoying it immensely based on his laughter. Isabella frowned at the brat but her gaze quickly switched to his donkey.

The poor beast was continually tempted to catch the carrot hanging a short distance in front of its head from the stick before it had completed its work, but it was also tired and Pablo's inattention with his little switch allowed it to stop. Isabella returned the laughter when Pablo bumped into the burro's backside, shocking it back into action with a little bray.

Isabella danced away, hoping that she would make it to Uncle Jorge's house before any of the older village boys saw her. There were at least three older boys who had decided that they should make themselves available to impress her with their various antics and skills anytime they caught her out in the village and sometimes even in the evenings while she was inside the house.

She picked up her pace at the thought.

 _Oh, how I hate this God forsaken place!_

For now, she was temporarily stuck in her temporary home in her temporary town and she was less than happy about it all. With supposedly a little over two more weeks to go in Casa Cuerva, she at least hoped it was all temporary.

Having turned 16 just a few days earlier, she wondered how many young women her age had to put up with things like she did. The village boys were bad enough and couldn't seem to take her seriously about her lack of interest in any of them, but the real problem had started well before that.

First, _Tía_ Violeta, Isabella's only aunt, had decided to go visit her sister, Isabella's mother. That would have been perfect if Aunt Violeta had left it at that; Isabella could have stayed at High Chaparral and helped Señora Cannon take care of the babies, but no! Aunt Violeta wouldn't have it. She said that Isabella really needed to see her mother and had forced Isabella to go with her.

While Aunt Violeta's strange insistence was bad enough, Mamá Rosa was even worse when they reached the village. Ten years younger than Violeta and the youngest of six children, Rosa had finally remarried a couple of years earlier and she seemed to care for little other than her new man. This was despite the fact that her new husband was about as worthless as tobacco spit, at least in Isabella's eyes. Why else would they be living with Uncle Jorge in a dinky little village in the middle of nowhere on the wrong side of the border? It wasn't like Uncle Jorge didn't already have enough problems of his own without Mamá Rosa and Isabella's new stepfather hanging around all of the time.

Therefore, Isabella's presence was more of an unwelcome distraction to her mother than anything. The fighting had begun again immediately after their arrival, similar to the way it had been before Isabella moved to the High Chaparral with her aunt. Now though, it was worse, since Isabella's presence was a constant reminder to her mother of what life had been like just a couple of weeks earlier before Isabella and Violeta had arrived in Casa Cuerva. This left Isabella spending as much time as possible away from the house, counting down the days and hours until it was time to leave, while simultaneously trying to avoid her pack of unwelcome suitors.

Most of all, though, was her vacation. After all, how many women got to go on a one month vacation and then had to spend every day at school? It was true that attending the little school got her away from her mother and the older boys for a good part of every day, but attending school really wasn't how most people would want to spend their sabbatical, especially when the teacher was Maestra Vargas.

Mrs. Cannon had many fine tutors over the years, and she was very well educated. Therefore, she gave Isabella lessons daily at home at the High Chaparral, and would often tell stories or talk about all sorts of interesting subjects while they worked or cared for the children. They would even discuss current events that Isabella read about in the newspapers and journals to which Mr. Cannon subscribed, always working to expand her horizons. It was so exciting!

On the other hand, Maestra Vargas, the schoolteacher in Casa Cuerva, had to be one of the most boring teachers ever.

 _Please God, help me get through these next two weeks. Please help me get home. I so need to get there—_

 _Oh! There's someone down the street. It looks like one of those awful boys! No!_

She quickly ducked between two houses and then ran around the back to enter the back door of the García residence without being seen from the street. Opening the door, she saw Rosa and Violeta talking so she slipped by with a simple nod. They both looked at her with guilty expressions, leading Isabella to hate her life and Casa Cuerva all the more. Frustrated, she took a seat at the table and silently started working on her homework.

 _It's horribly boring, but if I do it really slowly, maybe they'll leave me alone…_

The whispering she heard but couldn't quite make out through the open door confirmed her hopes. She opened her school book, a French primer that Mrs. Cannon had given her, and started to memorize her next group of words, trying to ignore the little murmurs in the back room. She started writing the exercises on her slate when she thought she could remember all of the words in the group.

 _Yes, Paris! Someday!_

It was a little later when Isabella heard a knock on the front door. She buried her head in the book but she was too late.

Speaking in Spanish, Mamá Rosa called from the next room, "Isabella, get the door, por favor."

Isabella sighed as she rose from her seat. She slowly walked toward the door.

 _Please God, don't let it be one of those boys._

Opening the door, she saw a young man with his back to the door, as if he was looking down the street to his friends for encouragement. However, she soon saw that was not the case for at the sound of the door, he turned toward her.

As he did, Isabella's eyes widened in surprise as she recognized the unexpected visitor. Her heart pounded and her breathing came to an abrupt stop even as her mouth dropped open.

Shocked and not knowing what to do, Isabella slammed the front door!

 _~HC~_

 ** _Author's Note:_** _Thank you to Junebug and wotwasithinkin for the nice comments on Chapter 18 and to everyone reading this story. I hope you're enjoying it! Your comments, reviews, follows and favorites are always welcomed and appreciated._


	20. Chapter 20: Ming-huá

**Chapter 20: Ming-huá**

She watched Mrs. Cannon writing the menu and recipes for the evening meal, but she was already thinking ahead. Using what she'd learned so far about the setup, Ming-huá brought in a basket of kindling for the stove and an armload of firewood for fuel. They'd started the fire in the summer kitchen pit earlier in the afternoon.

After a quick glance at the growing list, she started pulling ingredients out of the pantry while her employer was still writing.

Ming-huá was happy to see Mrs. Cannon smile on seeing how much she had already accomplished when the list was complete.

"Very good, Ming-huá. We will roast the side of beef over the pit outside. It has to be slow cooked over the coals, so it needs to go on first and the spit has to be tended frequently—"

Ming-huá raised her finger as she gently interrupted. "Mrs. Cannon, my English? Spit? I don't understand. Spit is bad around food."

Victoria smiled in response. "It's not just you, Ming-huá; it's actually most of the civilized world." With a headshake and something of a conspiratorial look, she added, "It's really the English. My English friend, Lord Tony Gray, once told me that they don't have enough words so they borrow them from other languages but then often use the same word or similar sounding words for many things just to confuse the rest of us."

"Like two, to, and too?"

Chuckling, Victoria agreed, "Exactly! The spit for cooking is the rod through the meat for turning so it doesn't burn on one side."

Ming-huá nodded in understanding. "Like a skewer? Or a French brochette?"

Victoria was impressed. "Yes, except much larger. Ming-huá, do you speak French?"

"No, but I worked with a French chef in San Francisco for a while. He was very particular and I learned a few French words related to cooking." She looked down at her feet. "And a number of French curses."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I will do my best not to teach you any French curses here. Or too many Spanish ones, either."

Ming-huá looked up to see Victoria grinning. Both women laughed.

"We'll call one of the boys to help us with the beef shortly, including lifting it over the pit for us." Turning back to her paper, she covered the next two items but the cry from upstairs came much sooner than expected. Victoria looked apologetic as she turned to go, but Ming-huá understood."

"I have this, Mrs. Cannon. You explain enough and I take from here. Go get babies."

Victoria thanked her and almost ran from the kitchen. Silence was restored a minute later as Ming-huá consulted the list and started her work.

The fire in the pit had burned down somewhat, so she raked the coals into position and added a few more logs on the back side of the fire. They would need more coals before they were done. She prepared the roast, and then called one of the men into the house. The roast was placed over the pit, and she had to rotate it frequently. A man named Roy, who was working nearby, agreed to turn the spit while Ming-huá went inside to continue working on supper. She thanked him and did just that, but was sure to check back with him periodically to be sure he hadn't been reassigned without telling her.

It was about thirty minutes later when the back door opened and Chun Li entered carrying a big stack of folded laundry. There were several bundles in the stack, each tied off with a cord.

Speaking in Chinese, the man greeted his wife and asked, "Where do I put the clean laundry for the Cannon family?"

"Put it there," she replied, also in Chinese, while pointing to a table. "I will put it away after dinner is underway. Everything is properly tagged?"

"Yes, dear heart."

"In English?"

"No."

Ming-huá picked up Mrs. Cannon's pencil from the table and, taking the list from her husband, wrote the English names next to the Chinese characters for each person on the ranch. She wasn't sure who many of the men were or the spellings on a few, but she figured she was close enough, so she handed it back to him when she was done.

"My husband, I came here very reluctantly at your insistence, but I must now admit that you were correct. I really like these people, this place, and this opportunity. We must do everything possible to show that we want to be here, that we can be valuable assets for the Cannons and High Chaparral. We have less than three weeks to show our worth, and that we are willing to learn, or we will be dismissed when their regular help returns. Tag in Chinese coming in, but in English for cleaned laundry so they can read it, too."

Chun Li nodded at the wisdom of her words. Holding up his paper, he said, "I'll memorize their words from this list and will tag the next batch in English."

"Good. How much longer do you think this batch will take?"

"I will be done before dinner time, my love."

Bending her head forward, her forehead briefly touched his before she straightened and looked into his eyes. "Very good. When you are done with that, there is firewood that can be split for the cooking fires. Mrs. Cannon said that they brought a wagonload of wood down from the woods on the side of the mountain recently and that one of the boys splits some each morning for use that day. You split and stack it, and then I'll have something else for you after that. Go, my husband."

Mrs. Cannon returned a short time later, bringing little Betsy with her. She put the little girl down in the kitchen bassinet. She returned to get Bobby while Ming-huá continued her work, keeping a watchful eye on the baby.

Seeing that all seemed to be in order, including the parts she hadn't had time to go over before the little ones awoke, Victoria said, "Ming-huá, I really appreciate all of your help. With Violeta and Isabella being gone, I don't think I could do it without you."

"You're welcome, Mrs. Cannon," she replied, but there was more than a little apprehension in her mind. She was quite concerned that she and Chun Li would be out of work soon when the regular staff returned.

~HC~

 _ **Author's Note:**_ _Many thanks to Cathy (BedeFan) and Kimani for the nice comments on recent chapters including Chapter 19. Thanks, too, to all who are reading this story. Your comments, reviews, follows and favorites are always welcomed and appreciated._


	21. Chapter 21: Violeta

_**Author's Note:** I'm posting this chapter a little early (as will be explained afterward) and the view count seems to show that a number of readers haven't yet had the opportunity to read Chapters 19 and 20. If you haven't done so, please take a few minutes to read at least Chapter 19: Isabella before starting this one so it will make sense. Thanks!  
_

* * *

 **Chapter 21: Violeta**

Two large clay bowls sat in the middle of the table between them, and a basket sat on the floor at the corner of the table next to their feet. The first bowl was partially filled with beans, and the second held discarded pods that would be fed to the pigs. The basket was still about half full of beans still in their pods.

As much as she loved and always wanted to see her baby sister, Violeta really hadn't wanted to make this particular trip. However, time and circumstances had conspired against her, forcing her hand. Now she was here and the talk that she had put off since their arrival had finally been broached as they sat shelling the beans.

Unfortunately, their work had slowed appreciably as a result and their discussion was going even more poorly than she'd expected. Their argument had been underway for over an hour, with the last twenty minutes in hushed but heated whispers since the unknowing subject of their disagreement was now sitting in the next room with an open door between them.

"It may not be right now, but it will probably be someday soon, maybe a little sooner or maybe a little later. Whichever it is, she'll meet the one she thinks is the right one, she'll fall in love, and her blood will run hot with passion. She'll make the decision then, whether you like it or not."

"I won't have it, I tell you," whispered Rosa angrily in reply in Spanish. "She's too young."

"Rosita, you keep saying that, but it's not up to you just like it wasn't Mamá's call with you and your sweet Richard, God rest their souls," replied Violeta quietly. "Deny it all you like but the girl is sixteen years old now, almost as old as you were when you married him. She may not realize it just yet, but she's a grown woman, and she's going to be making her own decisions soon, just like you did." Violeta patted her sister's hand and added, "I can tell that she is your daughter in that; she's as beautiful and every bit as stubborn as you were back then."

Rosa scowled, not sure if Violeta's last comment was a compliment or a swipe at her. "She may think she's grown, but she still has much to learn. I will keep her here if I must—"

Violeta was shaking her head as she gently interrupted. "You can be supportive and establish guidelines to help her with her choices, Rosita, or you can try to hold on tight to her with all your might. I warn you, if you do the latter, she'll probably slip through your fingers like sand…just like you did with Mamá."

Deep in denial, Rosa's face was red with anger and she was about to lash out at her sister, but a knock at the front door caused both women to look up. Frowning at her sister and eager to strike back after what she considered to be Violeta's unfair comments, Rosa called out, "Isabella, get the door. Por favor."

The scrape of a chair leg across the floor was the only indication of compliance until the sound of the front door opening came a moment later.

Rosa turned back toward Violeta. Almost hissing, she said, "This situation is totally different than mine and Richard's, and don't you dare compare me to Mamá. She—"

For the second time in as many minutes, Rosa was interrupted, but this time it was the loud slam of the front door that did the deed. Now seething, Rosa started to turn toward the door to the front room as if to yell at Isabella, but Violeta put her hand on her little sister's arm, hoping to calm her at least a bit to keep the situation from getting worse.

It did get worse, though, for from the front room she heard her niece exclaim, " _¡Madre de Dios!_ "

Violeta quickly rose from her chair and ran into the main room only to see the girl looking as if she was scared to death, clenching her hands together.

Fearing the worst, Violeta reached for her brother's old shotgun over the fireplace as she said, "Isabella! What is it, girl?"

The young woman shook her head violently and waved Violeta away from the gun. In a loud whisper she said, "Tía Violeta, he's here! He came here!"

Violeta was confused for a moment, but her expression changed when realization set in. "You don't mean...?"

Isabella's eyes were wide but watery as she nodded frantically in reply.

The woman's thoughts mirrored Isabella's for a moment, but she suddenly was overcome with another thought. With them returning in a few weeks, the boy wouldn't have come all that way just to say hello.

 _Surely not! For him to have come here, something must be horribly wrong at the High Chaparral!_

~HC~

 _ **Follow-up Notes:** Thank you __to wotwasithinkin and Junebug for their reviews on Chapter 20 and recent chapters. Readers are encouraged to provide feedback since it really helps me with the story. I welcome your input and greatly appreciate it._

 _Personal experiences sometimes enter our writing and this was one of those occasions that I can admit this with a smile. The bean shelling scene was inspired in part by a long-ago memory of my grandmother, my mother, and several of my aunts sitting around a table shelling lima beans while all of us youngsters were sent outside to play with my two youngest aunts who weren't much older than we were!_

 _Finally, on another personal note, I'll be on vacation for the next few days (which is why this is posted a little early) but I do have the next chapter with **Wind** all set to go soon after my return...if I don't think about it too much on our trip and start changing things!_


	22. Chapter 22: Wind

**Chapter 22: Wind**

The young man was standing outside the front door of the house holding the little bouquet of fall wildflowers he'd picked for the beautiful young lady of his dreams.

Indeed, when he'd turned and seen her, she was quite beautiful in his eyes, but it was a most fleeting sight. He'd seen her for a barely an instant before she slammed the door in his face. Now, unmoving, he was looking at the rough boards of the front door that were in need of a coat of paint.

 _She didn't even say hello._

 _The way she looked at me back at the ranch...I was sure she'd at least say hello._

Wind's heart was heavy with that surprise revelation, but that wasn't the most shocking as he continued to look at the door in front of him.

 _I made her so upset that she slammed the door. She was never like that at the ranch._

His mind was in turmoil. He'd spent days searching for her and then finally reaching this place, with each step carefully investigated, planned, and executed, though not without a number of setbacks along the way. Now, he no longer knew what to do, what to think, so he thought back to their little interactions in their time together at the High Chaparral. There weren't that many of them and they were almost completely non-verbal— _Did I misread them? Were they_ _far more one-sided than I thought?_

He considered each a good memory, even the time he had to race to Tucson to find the doctor for Mrs. Cannon, so he thought of each one in turn, including the time when she had handed him a cup of coffee. Their fingers had touched, ever so lightly, for just an instant as he took the cup, causing his fingers, his hand—No!—his whole body to tingle with excitement. She'd dropped her head and looked down at her feet, offering a weak "You're welcome" in response to his "Thank you." He saw what appeared to be a cute smile for an instant before she blushed and bit her bottom lip. He started to say something, but his gaze was then diverted to her hand, for as it slid away with him in possession of the hot cup, it was as if her fingers were trying to linger, to maintain the contact for just a little longer.

 _Did I read too much into this? Into it all?_

Suddenly he was pulled from his thoughts and into the present as he heard a voice, Easabella's voice, inside the house through the open front windows say, "¡Madre de Dios!"

The sounds of scuffling feet followed and then moments later, he heard an unintelligible whisper followed by something a little louder in Spanish that he could easily make out, "He came here!"

The sound of fear in her voice told him what he needed to know. He was not welcome here, nor did she wish to see him. Her words confirmed what he had feared in the back of his mind for most of the trip: his actions were highly impulsive and were completely unfair to the young woman. Her horrified expression on seeing him, slamming the door in his face, and her own words revealed it all.

 _She doesn't want to have anything to do with me. It was all in my mind._

Wind felt completely dejected, rejected, and crushed. He looked down at the flowers in his left hand. They'd looked so pretty when they were for her, but now, they were dull and lifeless, without meaning or purpose, just like him. He had picked them to share their beauty with her, but now he had wasted them, like the dreams he had held close to his heart.

With no strength remaining and his will to continue suddenly gone, his fingers slowly opened. The little bouquet fell out of his hand onto the dusty stoop in front of the weathered door.

Wind slowly turned and walked back toward Jama.

It would be a long ride back to the High Chaparral, but as he thought this, new thoughts bore down on him.

 _But can I even go back? If they're really returning like Señor Vaquero said, I can't go there if she doesn't want to see me. Despite what's happened in the past, we're bound to have to speak eventually, and that will be too much. I can't put her through that..._

 _Where do I go from here?_

~HC~

 _ **Author's Note:** Thank you to Junebug for the lovely comments on Chapter 21. Thanks, too, to all those who are reading, commenting, following, or favoriting this story. _

_"¡Madre de Dios!" is literally "Mother of God!" and is used as a relatively mild exclamation (at least I understand it's considered to be mild!) often translated to English as "Good heavens!" Isabella probably wouldn't risk a stronger term with her mother and aunt present.  
_


	23. Chapter 23: Isabella

**Chapter 23: Isabella**

Isabella's heart was racing at a frantic pace.

There was so much she disliked about the little village of Casa Cuerva and having to stay there, even if only for a little while. Perhaps the thing she disliked most was being made to come here in the first place.

Aunt Violeta had been very insistent about her making the trip, saying it was important for her to see her mother. Isabella had no idea why and particularly why it had to be this particular time. All they'd done since she had arrived was fight like before she'd left their former temporary home in Nogales and what she'd always considered to be her real home in Tucson before that.

It had taken a while but Isabella had finally discovered a good life that she enjoyed living at the High Chaparral, but then she had been forced out of it with almost no warning. She missed living there and helping take care of little Bobby and Betsy, and being around Mrs. Cannon, Mr. Buck, and Señor Manolito. She even liked Mr. Cannon, though she tried to stay out of his way, since he was so big and generally somewhat grumpy. She enjoyed talking to her friends at the ranch and learning new things every day. There, each day was different, and most days were an adventure.

On the other hand, here, every day was basically the same, with one being every bit as boring as the next.

That is, it had been that way until just a few moments earlier. Now, the young man she most missed seeing at High Chaparral was here, right on the other side of the front door but, as her heart continued to threaten to pound out of her chest, she had no idea what to do or say.

Isabella had enjoyed their little interactions since the very first time she'd seen him race into the ranch courtyard and bound off his horse. He'd come running right up to her at the house where she was beating the dust out of a rug.

"Note from Mr. Cannon to Mrs. Cannon," he'd said. "It's important."

Isabella remembered taking it and just nodding, before turning to run back into the house to find her employer. It was later when she realized she hadn't thanked him for delivering it.

That was shortly after she'd arrived at the ranch to help while Mrs. Cannon was pregnant, and she'd been watching him ever since, even though they'd still never really talked. Instead, they had looked at each other when they occasionally had such encounters, usually indirectly, while waiting for the other to speak, but the seconds would always pass and they would eventually have to move on.

However, her favorite memory was just a few weeks earlier when she'd played her fingers across his as she gave him a drink, hoping to get some kind of reaction from him. She'd gently run the pads of her fingers around the curve of the cup, right down his fingers, until only the tip of her middle finger was left touching the tip of his. Even more so than usual, the moment was gone too quickly as their hands finally separated, but she still remembered that feeling. It had affected her every bit as much as she'd originally hoped it would affect him, though he had, at least briefly, looked as if he might drop the cup due to being so surprised.

Isabella smiled at the memory. However, she wasn't content with such a short contact. She wasn't yet sure but she felt that she wanted to keep that connection forever.

 _Now he's here!_

Perhaps now they could finally talk and get to know each other. Maybe now, here in her mother's new but totally boring little village, she would finally find out if he was as nice as he seemed and they could see if there was a chance for them to be together. All she would have to do would be to say hello and ask him why he was—

 _—here? Why is he here? What if it's not here to see me? What if he actually came to see Tía Violeta?_

Impossibly, her heart seemed to speed up again so she could practically hear the pounding of the beat in her ears. She wasn't listening though, since thoughts were racing through her mind even faster than her heart was beating.

 _If he did come to see Tía Violeta, why? What is it about? Would he want to see me, too?_

 _See me? No! He can't see me! I'm a complete mess!_

She glanced down at her dusty bare feet and the bottom of her dark skirt covered with more dust from the village street. She frantically started trying to pat it away but part of her long dark hair fell over her shoulders.

 _My hair!_

Flipping it over one shoulder, she grabbed her hairbrush off the table and started raking it through her hair, trying to restore some semblance of order. As she did, she saw her aunt nodding with a knowing but very worried look. A slight tilt of Violeta's head toward the door suddenly brought Isabella's situation racing home:

 _Oh, no! What have I done? I slammed the door in his face. And the poor boy looked like he was hurt; he had some type of sling on his arm!_

Everything came together at that moment and it was too much for her. Tears welled in her eyes and started to slip down her face. She had messed up so badly. She didn't know what to do.

However, a second later, she was surprised to see that Tía Violeta appeared to know exactly what to do as the older woman moved to the door and started to open it.

~HC~

 _ **Author's Note:** Thank you to Junebug for the nice comment on the last chapter, and thanks to all those who are reading the story. Ten chapters remain._


	24. Chapter 24: Violeta

**Chapter 24: Violeta**

She looked at her niece with a mixture of love and concern, but she was most worried about why the boy had come. What could possibly be wrong at the High Chaparral that would make him travel this far?

Hoping that Isabella was ready, she opened the front door and stepped out to see Wind, with his back turned to the door, take his horse's reins and start walking away down the street.

 _Surely he wouldn't be doing that if he was here to deliver bad news. Would he?_

No, the boy's head was bowed low, as if in utter disappointment. He wasn't even making the effort to mount his horse as he led it away.

 _If it was bad news, he would have been persistent, calling out and knocking on the door for as long as it took to get our attention. No, surely this isn't bad news._

No, only matters of the heart would lead a young man to act like this, and probably only an inexperienced young man who was very unsure of himself at that. Knowing that this was why she had made the trip in the first place, Violeta wasn't about to stand in the way.

Suppressing the start of a grin, she was prepared to let things take their course, but when she glanced back, she was disappointed to see that Isabella had stopped at the front door and was partially shielding herself behind it, as if still paralyzed with emotion and embarrassment at what she'd done.

 _Well, sometimes things just need a little push._

Having stopped just beyond the front stoop, Violeta called out in strained English, "Wind! Please. Come back!"

The young man continued walking for a couple of steps before stopping, as did his horse. He turned slowly and looked back, apparently trying to conceal his emotions by making his face like a mask.

Having seen her own sons go through similar things as teenagers in the time before they left home years before, Violeta guessed he was covering up hurt and disappointment. He took a few steps toward her before stopping five or six paces away and saying, "Señora Violeta, good afternoon."

Violeta wasn't very comfortable with speaking English so she was trying to phrase her next sentence when she was bumped from behind. She was surprised to see Isabella rush past her and run up to him, stopping just in front of him.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to slam the door on you. You scared me," said her niece so rapidly that Violeta almost had trouble following the English words. "Please, come in. You're hurt. Can I get you something? Do you—"

Violeta breathed a little sigh of relief at not having to attempt to say something to stall the situation further, but she also felt warmth in her heart. With her sons being older and having no daughters of her own, her niece had always been a sort of surrogate daughter to her, so she was so proud of the girl for stepping up.

"—want some water? Something to eat?"

Wind, on the other hand, looked shocked that Isabella was speaking to him, and perhaps even more so, speaking to him with such excitement and rapidity. When she paused, Violeta saw him stand tall and say in a slow and measured tone, "Señorita Easabella, my name is Wind. I came to ask if I may call on you?"

Struggling to hide her grin and fight off the tears in her eyes, Violeta turned away for a moment only to be surprised to see something unexpected on the low front stoop. There, on the edge, was a pretty little bouquet of wildflowers tied together with a piece of vine. Bending down, she picked it up and then wiped her eyes before turning back toward the young couple. Putting the bouquet behind her, she took a few steps toward them, unconsciously biting her lower lip lightly in anticipation of what her niece would say next.

~HC~

 _ **Author's Note:** Thank you to Kimani and Ann for the nice comments on Chapter 23. Your reviews, comments, encouragements, and corrections are greatly appreciated on this story and also any of my earlier High Chaparral stories. A new review or comment even on the older stories always lights up my day!_

 _I hope you're finding this chapter-perspective format interesting. I thought about writing each chapter in first person point of view rather than third person character point of view, but quickly figured out that would be pretty difficult for me to keep all of the interactions in character and might be confusing for the reader, too. I hope the little inserted thoughts of the chapter-focus character (presented in italics) add to the story, as in this chapter, without being too distracting.  
_

 _That said, and with nine chapters left in this tale, I've developed the basic plan and started work on the outline for my next story using some of what I think I've learned from this one. I'm hoping the new story, tentatively entitled "Seven Shots" will be a good tale and provide another type of High Chaparral reading experience._


	25. Chapter 25: Isabella

**Chapter 25: Isabella**

It had all happened so quickly!

Not knowing what to do, Isabella had wiped her eyes to try to eliminate the tears she was fighting, and then had rushed forward to stop him. Coming to a stop right in front of him, she surprised herself at the way the words had just come tumbling out. Fortunately, the young man looked as surprised as she felt, so she was quite anxious as he started to speak.

"Señorita Easabella, my name is Wind. I came to ask if I may call on you?"

Isabella's knees felt weak as relief washed over her. This was better than anything she had dreamed of! She shook her head rapidly, repeatedly, before finally breaking into a grin.

"Wind, I know your name, even though it's taken you long enough to finally introduce yourself. And considering how far you've come, of course you can call on me." She looked down at her feet for a moment before looking back up directly into his eyes. "But even if you'd just walked from the bunkhouse to the house at the ranch or just across the street here, that would have been okay, too." Smiling, she added, "Would you like to sit down or would you like to walk with me?"

A goofy but cute smile swept across his face.

"Really? I'd love to," he replied excitedly without answering which he preferred.

She sighed as she shook her head with a look of exaggerated exasperation, but her look turned to concern as she took a closer look at the sling. Reaching out, she gently touched his hand sticking out of the sling. "Wind, what happened? Did you get shot? Are you okay?"

Looking into her eyes, he turned his hand carefully to take her hand in his own, following that with a gentle squeeze. Shaking his head in reply, he said, "No, not shot. But I'll be okay." He paused for a moment as if finished before seemingly forcing himself to continue. "I...ah...had an incident...with some fellows in Nogales. They couldn't seem to accept that I had nothing to do with their friend's death, so they tried to beat me up."

"Oh, poor Wind!" A tear started to slip down her cheek as she bit her bottom lip.

The young man brought his left hand up and gently wiped her cheek. "Please, don't do that. It's okay. I'm okay, and they'll recover, too."

Her eyes widened in admiration. "You won?"

He shook his head. "No, no one wins in a silly fight like this one. You can only try to survive."

She moved close and put her hand on his good arm. "I'm so glad you did. Why did they think you had something to do with their friend?"

He drew a deeper breath than normal, and held it for a moment before he started to exhale. "Easabella, before we go any further, I must tell you something in case it makes a difference to you. I'm what people disparagingly call a half-breed: half-white, half-Indian. My mother was Pawnee so I'm trapped between two worlds, but neither side wants to accept me, and neither side recognizes me for what I am. I don't know if that makes any sense to you, but if it bothers you, please tell me now and I'll go."

She looked at him with sympathetic eyes. "Wind, I know all of that…and I don't call you that word, either. In fact, I think I may understand a lot better than you'd expect, so none of that doesn't bother me a bit. So what about their friend?"

"The men in Nogales insisted that I was Apache and wouldn't believe that I'm not, so they wanted to hurt or even kill me as a result. They wouldn't believe that I didn't do anything to their friend, either."

"So they fought you?"

He nodded.

"Go on," she said softly.

"We got into it right in front of the church. It would have been a long, hard day for all of us if the nun hadn't threatened to spank all of us."

Isabella's eyes widened in disbelief. "Really? The nun was going to spank you? How…?"

He chuckled in reply. "Well, not exactly spank, but she did stop the fight, and it was hard enough as it was. Considering this," he said, pointing to his upper arm, "it was probably a good thing she stopped us. I might possibly have beaten the third man, too, eventually, but there was no guarantee, and I would hate to think what might have happened if any more of his friends had shown up."

"I'm glad that they didn't and that you're okay." Smiling with relief, she looked at him questioningly. "So why did you come here? Was it really to see me?"

He nodded. "When Mrs. Cannon hired the new cook, I didn't think you were coming back, so I had to come find you, to talk to you."

"Oh, the babies are okay, right? She told us she thought she could get by while we were gone, but that she'd get some temporary help if it got to be too much for her." Her face brightened when he nodded. "So you really came all this way just to see me?"

He nodded again. "I even brought you a little something, but I seem to have—"

Isabella was surprised to hear her aunt, who was now standing behind her, clear her throat rather loudly and Wind seem to breathe a sigh of relief. She turned to glance back but Tía Violeta was smiling and shaking both her head and one index finger at her. Strangely, her aunt's other hand was behind her back.

"What?" questioned Isabella, feeling a little like the other two were in cahoots against her.

Wind smiled. "Your aunt seems to have found what I misplaced." Looking into her eyes, he reached his left arm behind her and said "Gracias."

"Ah, sorry they're a little beat up, sort of like me, but..."

Wind held up the little bouquet of flowers in front of her.

~HC~

 ** _Author's Note:_** _Thank you to wotwasithinkin (welcome back!) and Junebug for the really nice comments on Chapter 24 and recent chapters. I really appreciate all of the reviews, comments, favorites, and follows for this as well as my earlier High Chaparral stories. They encourage me to continue my series and also give me a chance to respond to questions and comments, too._

 _I had to chuckle at the comment about Wind's pronunciation of Isabella's name being made now. If I didn't know better, I'd guess that somebody has a copy of the story outline! That was originally to be addressed in this chapter, but Wind only addressed her by her name twice, both times dealing with rather weighty matters. Therefore, it will be soon, really soon. I promise!_

 _Eight more chapters remain._


	26. Chapter 26: Wind

**Chapter 26: Wind**

Wind thanked Violeta and then held the flowers that she'd given him out before Isabella.

"Sorry they're a little beat up, sort of like me, but..."

Isabella took the flowers in her hand and breathed deeply, smelling the blending of the flowers' scents.

"...I thought, based on how hard you slammed the door, that I wouldn't need them anymore." On seeing her initial blush turn into a smile, he smiled, too.

"Señorita Easabella, I really would love to walk with you, if that's okay?" He glanced at her aunt for permission and saw Violeta, also smiling, nod in reply.

Wind looped Jama's reins over the hitching post, giving the horse a couple of pats. He then turned and held out his left arm, which Isabella took, looping her right hand in the crook of his elbow. "Down the street a little way, Señorita?"

She grinned as she leaned into him. "Lead on, good sir. I like how you call me señorita, but I really love how you pronounce my name."

He looked at her in surprise.

 _Oh no! She never told me her name. Did Pedro tell me the wrong name or did he mispronounce it?_

Fearing he'd really messed up, he asked, "I'm sorry, am I not saying it correctly?"

She smiled at him as she gave his arm a gentle squeeze. "Your way _is_ a bit different than I'm used to, but from you, it's _absolutely perfect_. I _love_ it and wouldn't have you change a thing." Her smile grew even wider before she looked back at the street and then leaned her head over to touch his shoulder.

Relief washed over him as they resumed their slow walk, arm in arm, down the street toward the well used by the houses at the east end of the village.

They'd taken just a few steps when he saw her look back around him. "Wind, tell me, why did you come? We're a long way from the High Chaparral and it must have been dangerous, particularly since you went all the way to Nogales and with what happened to you there. Why'd you go there, anyway?"

"Sister Cecilia at the Mission San Xavier suggested that I try Nogales."

"San Xavier?" She looked at him in surprise. "Why on earth did you go there? That was even farther out of the way!"

"True," he agreed, "but I had no idea where you'd gone. Pedro told me a while back that Señora Violeta used to live in Tucson, so I started there."

She looked at him, even more stunned than before. Her voice almost a whisper, she questioned, "You didn't know we'd come here?"

Wind looked down, rather sheepishly, and shook his head.

"From what I've seen and heard, you and Mrs. Cannon get along really well. You didn't ask her?"

Again, he shook his head, slowly, still studying his boots. The way she said it made him feel somewhat embarrassed that he hadn't. He felt her grip his arm as she stopped him, and when he looked up at her, she was staring into his eyes.

"Wind, why not? Why didn't you ask?"

"I...I thought you weren't coming back," he said, but it was the second part that bothered him, as if almost painful, since it was against his basic nature.

 _But I have to be truthful with her._

He forced himself to continue, "And that it wasn't her business that I wanted to speak with you."

He heard Easabella sigh. "Wind, Mrs. Cannon has been teaching me things—a great many things—since I've been at High Chaparral. One of those she's mentioned several times is that friends, and especially, really, _really_ good friends, need to be able to talk. She says that's called communicating and that we all need something called communication skills." She paused for a moment, as if wondering whether she should continue, but before he could say anything, she did. "I think we're going to have to work really hard on our communication skills if we want this to work."

While he'd listened closely to every word she'd said, her last words hit him like Carlos' club in Nogales.

 _She's still giving me—no, us!—a chance!_

His face was lit up in happiness at the thought, and when she saw this, she smiled back at him as she squeezed his arm closer to her. "Now, back to my original question: why did you come?"

Wind was a very brave young man. He'd faced and fought many dangers and hardships over the years, so he always felt that he could take on anything, but there in the middle of the dusty street in Casa Cuerva, walking arm in arm with the young woman of his dreams, he recognized the fact that he knew very little about women and what made them happy. Was what he was about to say the right thing?

Walking slowly, Wind also understood that now was the time to say the words he'd been practicing. Now was when he had to step up and tell her how he felt. It was then that another realization struck similar to that wooden club.

 _Now is when my mind goes blank?_

He thought of the words he'd practiced so many times, but despite his best efforts, they rushed at him in jumble and any semblance of order eluded him. "I, ah, ahem...I've seen you around and, I ah, thought you seem nice."

"You came this far to tell me that?" she asked, as if mildly amused.

"Uh, well, no, not exactly," he sputtered. "I, ah, think you're, um, very pretty, too."

 _Pretty? She's beautiful! She's—_

"Wind, I appreciate you saying that, but it still doesn't answer the question. I don't think you rode—what, 200 miles?—to tell me that I seem nice and am sort of pretty."

"No, not sort of pretty. I really meant that you're beautiful."

She looked down as she blushed, but looked back up at him before she'd completely hidden her grin. "Keep going."

"I, ah, don't remember what I was going to say."

Easabella huffed in frustration before suddenly pushing herself off of his arm and stepping around in front of him with a forced but rather stern look.

Wind looked at her questioningly, apologetically, as he struggled to remember what he wanted to say, but the good words he practiced refused to come. "Ahhh..."

Slowly, she raised her hand, her index finger extending toward him...

~HC~

 ** _Author's Note:_** _Thank you to the reader with the nice PM comments and to wotwasithinkin in a review of Chapter 25. I really appreciate all of your comments and feedback that help me with my writing and my attitude on this and upcoming stories._

 _There are still seven chapters to come._


	27. Chapter 27: Vaquero

**Chapter 27: Vaquero**

 _A few minutes earlier..._

With his wife inside the store doing a bit of cleanup after dealing with the needs of Señora Alvarez, the Mayor of Casa Cuerva was seated in the shade on the bench outside of his store that doubled as the mayor's office. With so much to do, he rarely had time to sit down to rest, but here he had an excellent excuse in the form of his young daughter who was currently giggling while he gently bounced her on his knee.

Following three little bounces, he said gave her a bigger bump and said "Wiiii!" as he picked her high up in the air above him before bring her back down to his knee to resume the little bounces.

Little Graciela squealed at his sound effect and the sudden movement and then resumed her giggles when she was back down on her father's knee. Vaquero's facial movements also added to his daughter's laughter.

Another laugh, also feminine, but deeper, joined Graciela's and both Vaquero and his daughter looked around to see Sara leaning against the door jamb smiling at them both.

"Ma ma!" said the little girl, her hand outstretched toward her mother.

Sara kneeled down next to them and rubbed noses with the little girl, bringing another round of giggles. Vaquero felt his heart warm seeing both of his girls there with him.

"Vaquero, do you need me to take her now?"

"No, I have her, my love," he replied. "At least for a few more minutes. She's growing so fast, I want to savor every second."

"So true. She'll be grown before we know it." Sara wiped the moisture from her dark eyes. "Since you have her for now, I'm going to put the new cloth out on the shelf. Olivia really liked it and bought four yards for new dresses for her girls, along with thread and some pretty new buttons. I may get some for a little play outfit for you, too, little one, but I'm going to make it big since you're growing so fast."

She kissed the little girl and then kissed Vaquero's forehead lightly as he bounced the girl again. "I'll be back out in a few minutes to get her so I can go start supper."

For the next few minutes, Vaquero played with and sang rhymes to his little daughter as he thought of what he and Sara had said. The little girl was growing very quickly. While it would be years before she was grown as his wife had suggested, those years would pass all too quickly.

With Sara not back yet, he picked "Martinillo," the Spanish version of the popular French song "Frere Jacque," and sang it to the little girl, changing the words slightly.

"Graciela, Graciela, ¿Dónde estás? ¿Dónde estás?"

Graciela giggled as he poked her tummy lightly with his finger each time he asked "where are you?" and then echoed with "Estoy aqui! I am here!"

"Toca la campana, Toca la campana..."

He pretended to tap the bells while finishing with their sounds, "Din, don, dan, din, don, dan."

He gave her a big hug and then a kiss on her forehead as she squealed with laughter once more.

Approaching voices drew his attention, so he looked up to see the young man, Wind, walking arm-in-arm with the lovely Isabella on his left toward the village well. With his right arm in a sling, he appeared to be a bit flustered as his right hand was making little circles as if trying desperately, but quite ineffectually, to get some important point across to her. Unfortunately, he seemed to be doing more sputtering than actual speaking.

From his vantage point, Vaquero saw her suddenly pull his left arm as she stopped and she swung around in front of him as if mildly perturbed about something. Vaquero wasn't trying to eavesdrop, but her voice was quite clear as she put her index finger in the middle of his forehead and said, "Please, not from here."

She moved her hand down from his head and stepped closer to him.

"Tell me from here," she said, gently placing her hand over his heart. "Why did you come?"

Seeing a bit of his own daughter's future in young Isabella's actions, Vaquero was fighting a smile as he rose. He wondered what the result would be, but he felt bad overhearing the discussion, even though they had come to him rather than the other way around.

He was about to enter the door when Sara returned. Seeing the couple out by the well, she looked at him questioningly and whispered, "What's happening?"

Holding Graciela on his hip with one arm, he took Sara's elbow and steered her back inside the store, saying, "I'm not sure, but young love, I hope."

~HC~

 _ **Author's Note:** Thank you to junebug for the nice comment on Chapter 27. I will also appreciate everyone's kind thoughts over the next couple of weeks as I struggle to finish chapters 28 and 29 in a form that I hope you'll enjoy while making sense in the context of the rest of the story. _

_My understanding is that the lyrics to "Martinillo" are in the public domain and therefore do not violate the terms and conditions of this website._ _Martinillo/Frere Jacques/Brother John is supposedly one of the most widely known children's songs in the world, sung in many languages. Numerous translations can be found at_

 _Ingeb dot org/Lieder/bruderja dot html_

 _Six chapters remain._


	28. Chapter 28: Wind

**Chapter 28: Wind**

Something about the way she'd done it relieved his anxiety. Maybe he didn't _have_ to remember the _exact_ words. Since they'd changed every time he practiced them anyway, perhaps it was better this way. He would tell her his thoughts and about how he felt, and hopefully it would make sense to her.

That she was holding her hand over his heart seemed to calm him, too, at the same time his heart was racing at her touch. He started to raise his hand up to take hers, but his look turned sheepish when he used the wrong arm and became entangled in the sling. Seeing her compassionate smile, he couldn't help himself. He laughed but was then happy to see her join him.

With something of a playful smirk, she took his right hand, gently moved it down, and then helped straighten his sling. With her handiwork complete, she slid her hands down to take his left hand in her own. Breathing out slowly as she tried to also straighten her expression, she said, "Now, I think you were going to tell me something?"

He nodded, looking into her eyes, and then took that step that seems so very hard and so momentous at first but is in actuality fairly small and not all that difficult in comparison to the overall journey.

"Easabella, I liked you the first time we met, even though we really didn't meet. You were beautiful and exciting; most girls would have taken Mr. Cannon's note and walked it into the house, but when I said it was urgent, you turned and ran almost as hard as I'd ridden to get it to that point. It was more than that, though. You didn't look at me like I was an outcast like the people in town usually do or the villagers among my mother's people. I don't know if you even knew who or what I was, but that didn't seem like it mattered to you. You looked at me like I was...well, me…and you smiled at me."

"Hmm, I'm not sure if I would want a young man who's taken by every smiling face," she challenged.

Wind, worried, completely missed her teasing facial expression. "No, no! Not every one," he countered, "just yours. And it's not just your smile. You are so beautiful, too, and you stir my heart to make me think that I like you."

She sighed, fighting off a giggle. "So you _think_ you like me but you're _not_ really sure?"

"No. I know I like you," he said, looking more worried by the error. "I'm just not sure how much. I think about you all the time, but I don't really know anything about you or why this is happening like this. I really...well, I just can't explain it. I want to get to know you better to see what this means."

She ran her fingers up his arm and then back down, cupping his fingers in her own as she smiled at him. "You're doing fine, Wind. I think I know what you mean. Keep going." Still holding his hand, she spun around and then resumed her hold on his arm.

He watched her move as she almost danced back around to his side. "You are quite graceful, your movements so..."

She looked at him questioningly. "So...what?"

"I'm sorry," he replied, looking a bit disappointed in himself. "I can't remember the word I was seeking. My upbringing has left me a little short on some words, particularly fancy ones. I didn't have any formal schooling, so I had to learn to read and write mostly on my own and I'm still not that good at it. Mrs. Cannon has been helping me since I've been at High Chaparral. She lends me books from her library and has given me a dictionary that I use to look up the words I don't know. I try to memorize them so I'll remember them the next time."

Wind watched as Easabella smiled and moved to sit against the wall around the well, but it was tall enough that she was still almost standing. He felt her pull him close so their legs actually touched and there were only inches between their upper bodies. So close to her, seeing her feminine shape, and feeling her touch, he felt sweat on his brow that he knew wasn't caused by the late fall heat.

Her hand stayed on his arm as she nodded and said, "She's doing the same with me, but more with my French. I'm trying to read a French book called Voyage au centre de la Terre right now since she said she also has an English translation that she gave Blue a few years ago. Unfortunately, she's lent it to someone and hasn't gotten it back yet since they're taking _forever_ to read it."

"It's not by a man named Jules Verne is it? Journey to the Centre of the Earth?"

"Yes, how did you know?"

His face reddened and he looked down at the ground beside them. "I'm sorry. I'm almost half way through reading it, but it's taking me a long time since I have to look so many words. I'll return it to her so you can read it."

Easabella's eyes grew large as she realized what she'd done. "No! Wind, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to insult you. Perhaps we can read it together when we get home?"

Her smile following her invitation warmed his heart as his face slowly cooled and he nodded. "I'd like that."

"Me, too." She brought his hand up to touch her cheek. The softness thrilled him as she turned her head slightly to rub ever-so-lightly against his finger. "Now, you were saying?"

Her words were giving him the encouragement he needed, but the missing word was still lost to him. "I'm sorry I can't remember the word I was seeking, but you do remind me of a tree along a riverbank up north. It's tall and sways in the wind, giving me a very peaceful feeling when I watch it."

She drew back slightly in surprise. "So you're saying I sway around and almost put you to sleep?"

Wind shook his head, almost frantically. "No! I didn't mean—"

Her laugh and grin made him realize that her tone had again been teasing rather than serious. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to tease so much, though," she added with a wink, "you do make it a little hard to resist." When he seemed to relax, she asked, "So I remind you of a tree? How?"

"Not just any tree, but a particular tree on the bank of the Salt River up north. I've heard that it's called a willow tree, and I think it's the most graceful tree in the world. It has long branches with long beautiful leaves that hang down and sway like your hair when you move. The leaves are very soft in the spring, like your touch, and they seem to always dance, as if by magic, even when Father Wind is sleeping."

She stood, silent and still, as she looked at him, apparently pondering his words. Wind wasn't sure what she was thinking, so he added, "That's how I see you, but I want to know the real you, and to know all about you. I know you're not a tree and that you're much more than just a beautiful young woman that I can't get out of my mind. Can you tell me about yourself? If Casa Cuerva isn't your home, why did you come here?" After pausing for a moment, he added in very low voice, "And maybe it's too soon but do you think you might possibly see yourself ending up with someone like me someday?"

~HC~

 _ **Author's Note:** This and the following chapter have been quite difficult to write and get to a point where I'm comfortable publishing them. Chapter 29 is now in a good rough draft form, as are all of the remaining chapters except for Chapter 32, and it's about 25 percent complete with a good outline for the rest. I really appreciate the nice notes and encouragement from wotwasithinkin, Junebug, and Kimani and nice thoughts from others as I was struggling with these recent chapters and from all of you throughout writing this story. Thank you!_

 _Wind and Isabella are teenagers who might be in love for the first time, so I hope their tentativeness and uncertainty have shown through without being overly cliché. If not, please let me know your thoughts, including any issues you might have and any suggestions you might have for fixing it. I can't promise that I'll act on any such suggestions since the story continues according to the outline, but I will be glad to consider them. If you like it how it is, I hope to hear that from you, too. Thanks!_

 _I think Wind may have been looking for the word "elegant." Of course, since he couldn't remember, that's just a guess on my part. ;-)_

 _Unlike many of Verne's stories published in serialized form, Voyage au centre de la Terre, (Journey to the Centre of the Earth) was originally published in book form in 1864, with the deluxe edition with illustrations released in 1867. The first English translation was completed in 1871 and is recognized as being flawed due to abridgement and changes to the story. This would have been Blue's copy that Wind was reading since Victoria had given it to Blue a few years earlier, possibly following the trip to San Francisco. An improved English translation was completed in 1877 at about the same time as this story. The book became very popular in the English speaking world as well as in the French, and is still used for adaptations today._

 _ **Salix gooddingii** is a species of willow known by the common name **Goodding's willow** , or **Goodding's black willow.** It is native to the American Southwest and northern Mexico, usually along rivers and streams. The tree has long thin leaves on many long, thin, hanging branches. Reaching heights up to about 95-feet or so (though usually much less), it can have a graceful, swaying appearance._

 _Finally, circling back to the last chapter, I've added an additional note on Martinillo in the note in the previous chapter due to wotwasithinkin's comment._

 _Five more._


	29. Chapter 29: Isabella

**Chapter 29: Isabella**

"Someone like you?"

She repeated his question and then paused for a moment to make him sweat a bit before continuing. "Perhaps. But you've got to tell me more about yourself for me to know what you're like."

Wind gave a slight grimace for allowing himself to be put on the spot but she saw him relax as he exhaled slowly. "Okay." He quietly told her a very short and somewhat sanitized version of his life. Still, her heart ached for him as he described a few of his hardships, leaving tears in her eyes as he concluded.

"I'm so sorry, Wind."

"No! Please don't be. It's in the past, and all of that made me who I am. Things are better now." He smiled at her as he squeezed her hand. "Now, it was your turn, before you tricked me. What about you?"

That made her smile but she looked down to try to hide it before taking a more serious look. "Well, I think you may find that we're at least a little bit alike. You see, my parents, like yours, weren't alike at all. My mother is Mexican, but my father was named Richard and he came from a place called Kentucky. See, I'm a mix, too," she said with a raised eyebrow and cock of her head.

Wind was surprised. "I didn't know that. I thought you were Mexican like your aunt. How did your dad end up here?"

"Papá was the son of a cabinet maker, but he decided to go west to seek his fortune in the late 1840s. He roamed around, going to California to pan for gold for a bit. He ended up doing various jobs for a little while and then would move on, always looking for something, but he really didn't know what it was. While south of the border in Tubac in the early 1850s—yes, it was south of the border back then, before the United States bought the strip of land where the current border is—he met a young Mexican woman named Rosa, my mother, and found what he'd been missing. They fell in love and got married in a big church wedding at the San Xavier Mission. Mamá said it was so beautiful! Then, they went back to Tubac and settled down."

Wind frowned. "Tubac's practically a ghost town. I passed by it on my way to Nogales."

"Yeah, it's barely a village now, but it was bigger back then. See, it was shortly after my parents married when La Venta de La Mesilla, the Gadsden Purchase, was completed. The U.S. sent some soldiers to take over the presidio, the old Spanish fort in Tubac, to see if it could be used. My father took a job working as a carpenter and cabinet maker with the U.S. Army at the fort since my mother was pregnant with my older brother. Mamá was really happy since she was near her family, so Papá kept working there for several years. He kept getting better and better at what he did, and before too long Mamá had another boy."

"It sounds like they really love each other," said Wind, listening closely to her story.

"They did. I think they would have been happy there together forever, but times were troubled and things were changing. The War for Southern Independence began in 1861 shortly after Mamá became pregnant with me. There weren't many Union troops at the fort and most people around here were for the South, so when the soldiers left, the local people took over the presidio."

"What did they do with it?" he asked.

She laughed lightly. "Not much, I'm afraid. My papa told me that following the withdrawal of the few Union forces from Southern Arizona, the Apaches saw this as their big chance. Sometime in early August 1861, when Mamá was about six months along with me, the Apaches came to town with about 200 braves and attacked."

"Not good. How many townspeople were there?"

"I don't know, but not nearly that many men. They sent word of the situation to Tucson, and then the townspeople moved into one side of the presidio with what possessions they could take. At the same time, a band of Mexican banditos took over the other side of the fort. Papá always said that may have been a good thing since it was too big for the people of Tubac to guard it all anyway."

"It still sounds like a bad situation."

"Oh, it was, but the people of Tubac thought they were saved when a Confederate militia force under Colonel Oury—you know, the politician guy from Tucson?—arrived in Tubac to 'rescue' them. Papá said they didn't understand the situation so they came really unprepared; food and water started running short in the fort a few days later. That was when the militia and the local men staged a raid to distract the Apaches. While they did that, all of the Tubacans in the presidio evacuated and fled toward Tucson."

"With 200 Apaches chasing them? Did they all make it?"

"Surprisingly, yes, but that was because of the raid that allowed them to escape. My papá was wounded in the raid and Mamá said he was in bad shape when they got to Tucson, but a doctor was able to patch him back up. She nursed him back to health. Most of the other people from Tubac decided to move to Mesilla, but Papá was recovering and Mamá said she was getting pretty big with me during that time so Mamá and Papá decided to stay in Tucson."

"What did they do?"

"Papá ended up opening a little cabinet and carpentry shop in Tucson, and I was born a couple of months later. He hired one of Mamá's brothers, Jorge, to help run the shop since he never completely recovered from his wound in the battle of Tubac. Papá died when I was nine years old."

"I'm very sorry," said Wind, putting his good hand on her upper arm in a comforting gesture.

"Thank, you," she replied softly. "He was a very good father."

Wind reached up and gently wiped a tear that was just starting down her cheek. "And you still miss him."

"Yes, it was a long time ago, but I do, every day." She took his hand and held it against her cheek for a few moments while remembering the good times of the past. Looking down, she added, "Mamá had to sell our house to pay Papá's bills, so we moved in with Uncle Jorge. He'd served in the Mexican Army for a while and had moved to Tucson to be with us and Aunt Violeta, whose husband had died. He didn't know much of anything so my father tried to teach him." She looked frustrated as she added, "Jorge tried to run the shop after Papá died, but he was never as good as Papá and he drank way too much. He ended up losing it a few years ago. My brothers both left home when they turned sixteen, taking jobs as cattle herders, to get away from him and Mamá since they all fought all of the time..."

Wind saw the look of pain on her face. "That's really tough. I'm sorry."

She nodded. "Thank you. I miss my brothers but, fortunately, I do hear from them occasionally." That thought seemed to give her strength as she looked at Wind with a sense of renewed determination. "When things got really bad, we had to move to Nogales where Uncle Jorge still owned a little piece of land. I didn't like it there.

"It got worse when Mamá remarried in Nogales, to a man more worthless than Uncle Jorge, who was almost broke again. That's when Aunt Violeta told Mamá about Casa Cuerva and what Señor Vaquero was doing here. Uncle Jorge sold the little place in Nogales and they moved to Casa Cuerva at the same time I moved to High Chaparral to help Mrs. Cannon and Aunt Violeta. Uncle Jorge runs the grist mill here, which he's actually pretty good at, and he also builds cabinets and furniture when the local people just can't find anyone else to build them."

"So you came to High Chaparral to get away from problems with your mother and uncle?"

She nodded. "And my stepfather, though he's not around much anymore. I just couldn't take it, so when Aunt Violeta told me about Mrs. Cannon needing help, I jumped at—"

The cry from just down the street was sharp and shrill. "Isabella! Get away from him!"

~HC~

 ** _Author's Notes:_** _If you have any feedback on Chapters 28 and 29, please let me know. These two chapters have been much harder to write than usual from the kids' perspective while still trying to sneak in a bit of local history. Your reviews and comments are appreciated.  
_

 _There is a minor but deliberate historical inaccuracy in this chapter that will be revealed later._

 _For those who might not be familiar with Wind's background, he was half Pawnee, half white. He suffered abuse due to his status while he lived with his Pawnee mother in her village until she died, and then moved to the white world where he was basically enslaved for a while and suffered abuse, again due to his status. He developed his own credo as a result of all of this as discussed in earlier chapters._

 _Granville Henderson Oury wasn't commissioned when he led the militia relief force to Tubac. He became a colonel in the Confederate Army later in the war. He served in the Arizona Territorial Legislature and as Territorial Attorney General before serving in the U.S. House of Representatives for several years (shortly after this story takes place). Isabella may have had to clarify since Granville's infamous brother William Oury was involved in the Camp Grant Massacre, on April 30, 1871, where 144 Pinal and Aravaipa Apaches who had surrendered to the United States Army at Camp Grant, Arizona, were killed. With most of the braves away hunting, all but eight of those killed were women and children. This massacre contributed to the renewal of hostilities between the Apaches and the Americans that was to last for years to come._

 _For those interested, you can visit Wikipedia and search on "Siege of Tubac". After reaching Tucson, most of the Tubacans soon decided to continue on to La Mesilla, but they had a tough time. Search Wikipedia for the "Battle of Cookes Canyon" and then "Battle of the Florida Mountains" for more info. Tubac was not resettled until the 1880s, but High Chaparral canon is that there was at least a small village there in the 1870s. Wind's "it was practically a ghost town" is my attempt to try to strike a balance between the two._

 _Four chapters remain._


	30. Chapter 30: Wind

**Chapter 30: Wind**

Easabella was just finishing her tale when Wind saw a woman hurrying down the street toward them, with Señora Violeta trailing along behind her.

"Isabella! Get away from him!"

The tone of her cry told Wind that this wasn't going to end well.

On seeing the woman up close as she approached Easabella, Wind immediately suspected who this was. She looked a lot like the young woman, though 20 or 25 years older and perhaps 20 or so pounds heavier with a few streaks of gray near her temples in her dark hair. She had the small lines of age etched particularly around her eyes and a few written around her lips, but he would have still considered her to be quite pretty if not for the severe frown and furrowed brow she was sporting from being so cross at her daughter.

Stopping just in front of the young woman, her mother grabbed Easabella by both arms just above the elbows and gave her a sudden jerk. Wind saw her glance at him with even more anger before facing off with Easabella. Speaking in Spanish, the woman said, "Easabella! You can't go walking and talking to such an immoral young man in the street like this! It's not proper and will get you a bad reputation! He's not even a real gringo! He's a half-breed, which makes it that much worse! You must quit this foolishness and go home at once!"

Easabella was on the verge of tears as her mother started to pull her forward toward the house, but she stopped, throwing one hand off. Replying in Spanish, she said, "Mamá! Stop—"

The slap was so sudden and so forceful that Wind was taken aback. It was all he could do to keep from grabbing the woman to keep her from striking Easabella again, but there was no second blow since Easabella fell to the ground, seated with both legs out to her left in the dusty street and her pretty, dark skirt made lighter by the dust that billowed up from her fall.

The young woman's hand flew to her face as the tears rolled down her reddened cheek, cutting tracks in the dust that had also covered her face. Still speaking in Spanish, she said, "Please, Mamá. You're embarrassing me. Please, leave me alone."

Standing over her, the woman said, "You ought to be embarrassed, young lady. It's shameless! Gallivanting down the street with a strange young man! Well, I won't have it. You're going home right now."

She grabbed Easabella by the shoulders and pulled upward, forcing the girl to rise. When she was up and somewhat steady, the woman added, "Now tell this boy to leave and then you're going home."

Looking down, Easabella snuffled, trying to stop crying before she looked up at Wind, briefly, apologetically, almost pleadingly. He was about to reach out to her, despite the risk of her mother's displeasure, when Easabella suddenly hardened her face and turned to her mother.

Moving close to her, she said in slow, measured Spanish, "Mamá, this is _not_ my home. The High Chaparral is my home, not this place that I have never even visited before this trip. And this young man that you disparage so cruelly is not a bad person and he's no stranger to me. It's true that I don't know him _that_ well, but I've watched him and I trust him. He is a really good man, Mamá, and I've liked him—no, maybe even _loved_ him— _for months_ ," she said.

Her mother's eyes were wide in surprise as Easabella continued.

"Now, though Heaven knows it's taken the poor boy long enough, he's _finally_ noticed me, and he's realized that he might feel a little something for me, too. He may not always be exactly eloquent about it, but the way I remember it, Papá was pretty plain-spoken, too, and you loved him none-the-less for it. Mamá, you can hit me all you want, but you are _not_ going to mess this up for me, even if that means that I have to leave this place forever and go with him right now, or if he doesn't want me or doesn't want to get involved, then go on my own. Do you understand me?"

Wind saw her mother's expression of disbelief, but he was experiencing the same feeling, though on the happier side.

 _Easabella likes me and thinks she may even love me!  
_

Thrilled, his smile covered his face as he slowly stepped forward to help her, but he was pulled back to reality a moment later when Easabella called his name, sharply. She was looking at him in disbelief turning to horror.

"Wind! ¿Hablas español?" _Do you speak Spanish?_

Realizing he'd only ever spoken to her in English, he nodded slowly in reply and Easabella's face flushed bright crimson red.

~HC~

 ** _Author's Note:_** _Thank you to Junebug, wotwasithinkin, and Cathy for the feedback on Chapters 28 and 29. Your feedback is important to me and greatly appreciated.  
_

 _The word "gringo" originally referred to those who weren't native Spanish speakers, but in the 1840s and early 1850s following the Mexican-American War it came to be associated with white Americans. It is now sometimes used as a derogatory term._

 _There are three more chapters to come._


	31. Chapter 31: Violeta

**Chapter 31: Violeta**

Violeta had watched with an ever-growing sense of pride as her young niece seemed to grow up right before her eyes.

It had been tough on her, but Isabella had done what it took to stood up to her mother. However, now it was all Violeta could do to avoid bursting out laughing when she realized that Wind knew Spanish and understood everything that the young woman had said in her confession to her mother. She blinked her eyes repeatedly to fight off the tears of joy and laughter that she was attempting to suppress.

Rosa, it seemed, was not amused in the least. Taking advantage of the surprise and the stunned silence that followed, she stepped forward as if to grab and perhaps even slap Isabella again in an attempt to regain control of the situation, but Violeta saw her sudden movement just in time.

She stepped close to her sister and grabbed her arm. "Rosita, stop it! You may not be pleased with what your daughter is doing, but she is a grown woman now and it's still not as bad as what you did. _If_ , that is, you don't push her away and into doing exactly what you don't want her to do. If you do, you'll be just like our Mamá, and you'll get exactly what you deserve like she did."

Rosa was glaring at her older sister, shaking her head in denial. "I told you earlier, Violeta: leave Mamá out of this!"

"No! You insist on playing her part in Isabella's affairs like she did with you and Richard, and you saw how that turned out. You ran off and got married outside of the Holy Church when Mamá insisted that you were too young, and what happened? The Catholic Church may have frowned on the two of you but you loved each other every day until the day he died. While you may not want Isabella to do that too soon, I've been trying to tell you that she's approaching the time that she's going to make her own choice, just like you made yours. If you push her too hard, you may not give her the time she needs and she may end up making the wrong choice. Then where will that leave her and where will it leave you? Please, Rosita. Give her the room she needs to learn how to make what she believes is the right choice when her time comes, and the time she needs to learn it well."

Having fought off her own tears, Violeta now saw tears starting to well up in her little sister's eyes, but the questioning look from Isabella caught her attention.

The girl squared her shoulders in front of Rosa and said, "Mamá, outside of the Church? You told me that you and Papá were married by the priest at San Xavier and that you wanted me to do that like you someday. Isn't that the truth?"

Rosa nodded her head rapidly several times, but the disapproving look Violeta gave her caused her to slowly change it to an even slower shake. When she stopped, she was looking down at her feet as she said, "Isabella, Mamá said I was too young to be marrying a gringo. It was just a few years after the war between Mexico and the United States and there was still a lot of resentment and distrust, so she wouldn't give us permission or her blessing. We left Tubac and found a Methodist pastor that your papá knew in Tucson. San Xavier was closed during this period, and wasn't reopened by the Church until a year or two before you were born. Of course the priest, if there had been one present, wouldn't have married us anyway without Mamá's blessing, but the Methodist pastor did. I was already pregnant with your brother Alex when we returned home to Tubac to face Mamá."

She wrung her hands as she remembered for a few seconds before adding, "Mamá wouldn't speak to me for months when we came home, other than to yell at me, but after Alex was born, she finally accepted what Richard and I had done in order to have a relationship with her grandson. Neither of us ever mentioned it again, but we couldn't talk about it either. We just pretended that I had had a beautiful church wedding like she'd always wanted for me, and that's why I told you that since it's what I want for you someday, too. If I could go back now, I would talk with her and make sure we understood each other and tell her I love her. Unfortunately, neither of us knew her time would come so soon."

Isabella looked at her mother through her own tears. "I love you, Mamá, and I want what you want, but I want it to be on my terms when the time comes, with the person of my choice. I really like Wind a lot, maybe even love him," she said, glancing at him with a little smile, "but I'm not sure what love is yet, and I want to learn without you trying to interfere and push us apart. I want the decision to be mine, not yours, since I'm the one who will spend the rest of my life living with the choice. Please, Mamá, be there to give me advice and hugs when I need them, but please don't try to make my decisions for me."

Rosa was looking at her daughter knowing that she'd lost the fight, but she didn't want to lose her only daughter, too. "I'm sorry, Isabella," she said as she opened her arms invitingly.

The young woman accepted the invitation and stepped forward to take her mother in her own arms. Violeta saw that tears were now flowing on both sides, so she looked over at the young man. He seemed to be relieved the situation appeared to be reaching a resolution, but Violeta, knowing both sides of the argument and both of the arguers, knew that it probably wasn't as final as it might have seemed.

Clearing her throat, she said, "Rosita, Isabella, Wind, I think I have a suggestion."

~HC~

 _ **Author's Note:** Thank you to wotwasithinkin and Junebug for the nice comments on Chapter 30. Reader feedback is greatly appreciated. _

_The deliberate "historical inaccuracy" from Chapter 29 was revealed in this chapter to be Rosa's attempt to cover up her elopement by claiming to have been married in a big church wedding at San Xavier. As noted earlier in the story, San Xavier was closed by the Church for a number of years and wasn't reopened until shortly before the start of the American Civil War and Isabella's birth._


	32. Chapter 32: Wind

**Chapter 32: Wind**

 _Evening, several weeks later, at High Chaparral Ranch..._

The chains were small but they made little rasping squeaks as the swing continuously repeated its small slow circuit back and forth. The swing was wide enough for three but only two sat close together in the middle of it. Due to the sudden cold spell that pushed the evening temperature down into the low 40s, both wore coats and the young lady wore a hat, but neither wore gloves.

The couple had quickly discovered that gloves got in the way of holding hands.

Indeed, Isabella had one arm wrapped around her boyfriend's now healed arm, and Wind was holding her other hand with his own. They were whispering quietly but frequently giggling together like young school children. The English language version of Journey to the Centre of the Earth lay open atop a dictionary on the seat next to Wind; the couple had made almost no progress with their reading this evening.

They'd also made no progress toward sneaking another tender kiss either since Tiá Violeta was seated in another seat just a few feet away, happily knitting socks while keeping an all-too-close eye on the young lovers. Wind snuck a quick glance at Easabella's aunt only to see the woman raise an eyebrow and smile back at him before glancing down at the sock she was knitting.

Wind's attention was suddenly drawn to the little stab he felt in his ribs. Easabella was grinning at him as if fighting off laughter, having seen at least part of the interaction with her aunt. "Caught again," she whispered.

He gave a tiny nod before adding, "Someday, my Easabella."

"Someday," she agreed with a broad, hopeful grin.

It had been a busy last few weeks. Wind had remained in Casa Cuerva during the rest of Señora Violeta and Easabella's stay, eventually even reaching speaking terms with Mamá Rosa before it was time to go. He spent much of his time doing what he could with one arm to assist Señor Vaquero, but he'd also spent part of each day with Easabella, walking her to and from the little village school, eating dinner with her, and spending much of the evening talking with her. When their visit was concluded, he'd escorted Violeta and Easabella back to the High Chaparral, more certain than ever that the feeling he felt for the young lady really was love after all.

Señora Violeta's idea hadn't been the most appealing, but after consideration, all the parties had agreed to it. Mamá Rosa was getting at least part of what she wanted in that Easabella had agreed not to marry before she turned 17, and, in a second concession, had agreed to having a church wedding like she'd always believed her mother to have had since she secretly wanted it that way anyway. In return, Rosa had agreed to accept Wind as at least a potential suitor for her daughter, though Wind suspected that she still hoped that Easabella would eventually end up with someone else.

Easabella had been allowed to return to her duties at the High Chaparral and to have regular, though chaparoned, contact with Wind. Through these visits, with Aunt Violeta or occasionally Mrs. Cannon looking on, he had gotten to know her better and had long since confirmed his belief that, if she would have him, he would someday be her husband and she his wife.

Wind was shaken from his thoughts as Easabella tugged his arm to get his attention. "I'm sorry we have to put up with her," she whispered, "but I think someday we'll remember it as all being worth it. Until then, just remember: I love you."

"I love you, too, my Easabella."

Happy and content, she smiled at him and then placed her head on his shoulder, giving his hand a firm squeeze, which he happily returned.

The swing continued to rock slowly as they sat together, but Easabella raised up a minute later and looked at him. "Wind, when...ahem, _if_ ," she corrected with a giggle, "if we get married someday, what will my last name be?"

Being a rather minor point to him, Wind hadn't really given that any thought. "I don't know? García, I guess. Maybe I'll be a García, too."

"García?" She looked at him strangely. "Why García?"

"Well, you shouldn't have to change anything about yourself for me. You're perfect the way you are."

She grinned as she poked his arm. "Silly! My surname's not Garcia. My papá was from Kentucky. In the United States, my name is Isabella Smith. In Mexico, they tack on García to indicate Mamá, too, but I'm not in Mexico!"

Thinking back to Mr. Ebenezer Binns' rant about people with common surnames, Wind had to smile.

He had no time to say more, however, since Violeta stood up and gathered her knitting. Walking over before the young couple she said in slow but improving English, "I go inside now. You be good. You have a minute to say goodnight."

There was a hint of a smile as she went in the door.

The two young lovers rose from the swing and stopped, facing each other, by the door.

"Goodnight, my Wind."

"Goodnight, my Easabella, Isabella Smith." Glancing at the door and then toward the bunkhouse, he leaned in and turned his head slightly as she did the same before their lips touched. With their lips locking together, he kept his eyes open long enough to see Easabella's close, and then closed his eyes, too.

Their kiss continued for several seconds before Easabella squeezed his hands and they slowly separated. It was over far too quickly as she smiled at him and headed inside, but his head and his heart felt light with pleasure and the hope for more in their future together.

Walking slowly toward the bunkhouse, he looked up at the night sky and saw the stars that seemed to go on forever. The arrangement that Aunt Violeta had proposed seemed to be a lot like that, going on forever, but it really wasn't that long. After all, Señorita Isabella Smith, his Easabella, would be 17 in about eleven months, and if things worked out like he hoped, they could talk seriously about marriage then...

~HC~

 _ **Author's Note:** Thank you to everyone who is reading this story and to Junebug for the nice feedback on Chapter 31. Readers' reviews, comments (both positive and constructive criticism), follows, and favorites are greatly appreciated.  
_

 _Smith is the most common surname in the United States, with 2,376,206 Americans sharing the name in the 2000 census. In Mexico, Isabella's full name might have been Isabella Smith y García (indicating both her father's and mother's surnames) if her family followed the Spanish custom.  
_

 _The final chapter to tie up the remaining loose ends will be released on 7/16/17 if all goes as planned._


	33. Chapter 33: Victoria

**Chapter 33: Victoria**

It was late and the babies were asleep, hopefully for the night, for the first time in their new nursery. Isabella was sleeping in their room with them in case they awoke.

That left Victoria happy to be nestled in bed with her husband. With winter set to arrive in just a few days in the southern part of the Arizona territory, the evening was cold so they had their covers over them since their nightclothes were discarded on the floor next to the bed. John's arm was around Victoria as she rested her head on his chest. He felt so comforting to her as he gently stroked her hair.

Their quiet discussion suddenly turned.

"Victoria, it's been almost three weeks. Have you decided what to do?"

Shifting, she laced her fingers together and placed her chin atop them on John's chest so she could see his face in the dim light. She smiled at him as she replied, "Yes, John, Violeta and Isabella have been back for a few weeks, and things are finally back to normal. Violeta is back in charge of the household duties, and Isabella is a darling helping with the babies. As for the decision, yes, I think so."

"Well?"

"Oh, John, I've decided to keep Chun Li and Ming-huá on our household staff as our clothes washer and assistant cook. She'll be helping with other household duties, too, and cleaning the bunkhouse."

"I thought that might be the case, Victoria, but I still don't know how we can afford it. Having the extra help for you sounds great, but I don't think there will be enough work to keep Chun Li busy. The man's gotten better at driving the buckboard, but he can't ride a horse to save his life and he really doesn't seem to want to learn. To be honest, I think he's a little intimidated by them unless they're in harness." He sighed. "He doesn't seem particularly fond of cows, either. We don't want to pay him full wages to do just one or two days of work each week. We can't afford that."

Victoria was shaking her head lightly with a look as if she knew something that John didn't know.

"No, my husband. I have it all figured out. You see, one day of Chun Li's salary will come from the ranch operations account for his washing duties for the hands, two days will come out of my household budget, and the rest will come from the ranch improvements account. I've already checked and double checked and found that we can afford to keep him if we do it that way."

"Really, Victoria? Are you sure? And why from the ranch improvements account? That's for new fences, corrals, barns, and so forth."

Raising up and pulling the covers tight around her, Victoria leaned toward her husband and kissed him first on the forehead and then on the lips as John put both of his arms around her. "Oh, yes, John. I've found much more work for Chun Li. He'll be taking over as gardener, which accounts for the extra day from the household account, and as the head of the adobe brickworks here on the ranch. Improving the garden will help us with our food supplies, and I figure he'll be working in the brickworks at least three or maybe four days a week, and laying them, too, when the time comes, so that will come out of the improvements account."

John looked at his wife with a bit of confusion. "Victoria, why on Earth do we need to make so many bricks? And what's he going to be laying them for?"

"Well, my husband, I told you I don't like the location of Chun Li and Jin Ming-huá's tent, but I was wrong. It's not the location but the tent itself that I don't like. We'll need lots more bricks to build their new house. With Joe and his new girlfriend getting married soon, we'll need a house for them, too, and, if things work out between Wind and Isabella like I suspect, we'll need another one for them late next year, too. Who knows how many more we'll need? Chun Li may be making bricks and laying them for years to come!"

 _The End_

~HC~

 _ **Author's Closing Note:**_

 _First, I want to thank everyone who's contributed to this story through reading, commenting and reviewing, following and favoriting, PMs, and good thoughts or prayers. It's taken quite some time to write this story over almost seven months, so I really appreciate everyone who's helped keep me on track with it. Thanks, too, to wotwasithinkin, Cathy, and Kimani for their feedback on Chapter 32._

 _I will also greatly appreciate any more reviews, comments, favorites, and follows even long after the story is complete since I monitor all of my stories regularly, along with any notes pointing out errors that weren't intentionally included as a plot device._

 _In this story, Wind is about 3 years older than Isabella's almost 16 at the start of the story, which was an effort to keep things realistic for their time period. Fifteen to seventeen was a surprisingly young but very common age for young women to marry at the time. In addition, three years was a quite common age difference in couples on the American frontier, though the age difference was often a number of years greater than that and young women sometimes married even earlier. However, research into modern situations shows that while it is still quite common, there are issues that put young women, in particular, at much greater than average risk when they marry very young or to men much older than themselves. A recent article about this can be found at_

 _www dot miamiherald dot com/opinion/article132277779 dot html (Change dots to periods and delete the extra spaces)_

 _I'm currently working on my next High Chaparral story, tentatively titled "Seven Shots," which I hope to debut in a few weeks, and I have two other HC story concepts for a little further down the road. Until then, I hope you'll check out some of our HC stories by other authors and leave them at least a short review comment with encouragement for them to continue writing and contributing to our HC fanfiction library. I've recently been reading Lydia Hunter's "Thank You, Mrs. Cannon" and MJRod's (with VKS) "Fathers and Sons" and am finding both to be very good and very much in character with the show. If you haven't read them, I encourage you to check them out._

 _¡Hasta luego, mis amigos!_

 _VST_


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